


Chained Heat

by ValentineRunaway



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Anal Fingering, Aunt May is supportive mom, Beck is a cock who steals shit, Blow Jobs, Crying After Sex, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Guns, Handcuffed Together, Handcuffs, M/M, Masturbation, Nudity, Or at least I'm trying to make it slow build, Peter is a Babysitter, Rimming, Road Trips, Sexual Tension, Showers, Slow Build, alternative universe, hand holding, two sex scenes one long one very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-10-29 11:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRunaway/pseuds/ValentineRunaway
Summary: Peter Parker has ran away from home, but is caught by a cop after she recognized Peter's face from a missing person's poster. While Peter is taken to the nearest station, they end up stopping to arrest a robber. Soon, a second person joins the backseat of the cop car - a man named Quentin Beck. Since both Beck and Peter are hard to handle and the cop only has one pair of handcuffs, she ends up handcuffing the two of them together.But what happens when the car crashes, the cop dies, and the key is nowhere to be found? Two strangers are forced to work together as a team as they try to find their way out of these handcuffs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yall, I'm excited to start another fic with my current fav OTP. Few things I want to note before you start reading;  
\- Peter is 19 years old in this fiction.  
\- This is an alternative universe where superheroes don't exist.  
\- Quentin and Peter will travel a long trip during this story. Their trip is based on 'Life Is Strange 2' - I've used the same locations seen in that game. Why? Because I don't know anything about America or road trips, and I wanted to use real locations but still make the trip seem as realistic as possible. I apologize if I fail at this task lol but I wanted to challenge myself. So, they take the same route as the brothers do in Life Is Strange.  
\- I've been super depressed lately so sorry if the writing sucks lmao.

If Peter would have known that one day he’d be sitting at the back of a police car with handcuffs around his wrists, he would have tried to avoid this situation with all of his might. Or maybe he wouldn’t have changed anything at all because the fact was that he had never been in a police car before and he was always eager to try new things. Even if those things were illegal. If he was honest, his situation sucked. But at the same time he was excited, maybe less on the edge as he has been these past few weeks. Somehow the cold touch of the cuffs made him feel more free than ever.

As he sat there in silence, looking out of the window of the small city view passing by, Peter started to think about his life choices. You know, the choices he had made that made him end up in this situation in the first place. He had been a good kid before who always knew to do the right thing. He was one of the best students in his class - no, the whole school, passing every subject with ease because he was passionate about his studies. He had always been the role model for others despite not being too popular with the other kids. That was until two months ago when his uncle Ben passed away because of a shooting, and everything in his life just went worse. He was too sad to study or even go to school anymore. He felt trapped in his own room because he didn't want to face the world knowing that his second father figure was now gone, too. Even if his friends and his aunt May had been there for him, Peter had never felt so alone. And in order to fight that feeling of loneliness, he decided to be even more alone. He ran away from home.

The money he had been saving for his own car had been almost spent. His general attitude had changed from cheerful to a handful, always picking fights, always glaring at people, always feeling like shit. Sometimes Peter wondered if running away from home was really a good idea since it had changed him as a person completely and ruined his whole life. But a part of him had enjoyed this adventure and tried to see it as some kind of learning experience. That way of thinking was proof that the old Peter was still in him, just now hidden underneath a hard surface. He didn't regret his choices. He had felt free. And that's what he wanted to be - free from everything that held him down.

“Have you ever been to Washington before?” the cop at the front seat suddenly asked. Her eyes were piercing as she looked into the backseat, quickly returning her eyes back on the road. She was almost middle aged, a little overweight but still fit enough to run after someone - like she had ran after Peter and caught him easily. Her hair was probably colored red a few months ago, but by time it had lost its color and turned kind of orange. Her nails were short and she had no make up, which showed that she knew what she was doing.

“No”, was Peter’s answer.

“You live in California, don’t you?” the cop asked, raising her strong eyebrows a little. “You sure have ran faaar away from your family. Were you abused or something or … what made you run this far?”

Peter really wasn’t sure. Uncle Ben’s death took a big toll on him. So did aunt May’s idea to move to New York, which meant that Peter would have to say goodbye to his old friends, his whole life, and move to another big city where everything would be a mess first. He didn’t like it when things changed without his approval. Maybe he ran away so he could make his own choices and build his own future, where ever that would be. Maybe he secretly didn't want to grow up yet.

“Just wanted to have some fun”, Peter said quietly, looking back out of the window. He pressed his head against the glass, starting to feel sleepy. And it wasn’t even that late yet. But after sleeping outside for weeks, having a little nap on this comfortable seat would be Heaven.

The cop huffed at him. “Well, the fun’s over now. You’ve worried your relatives so bad they’ve been sending your little ‘missing person’ - poster all over the country.”

Peter knew that. He had seen his own face on a damn milk carton. And he had been recognized a few times. And ever time someone had grabbed onto him and told him he had to go back home, Peter had put up a fight. Just like he had with this nice police officer who now had a sore eye and a bruise on her leg because of him. Trying to escape from her had been worth the shot.

“What’s your name again?” the cop asked, and Peter answered. Peter Parker. Peter damn Parker. Peter _I'm-really-fucking-stupid _Parker.

“Well, my name’s Denice. I’m trying to be your friend here, not your enemy”, she said, trying to give the boy a smile but pulling it away the second she saw Peter glaring at her. “I’ll be taking you to the next station where we’ll discuss how to get you back home.”

“Great”, Peter said. He was expecting to hear a lot of questions there. _ ‘How did you get this far away from your home _ ’, _ ‘did you ever steal anything _ ’, ‘ _ have you done anything illegal’ _‘, and so on. If Peter was honest, yes, he had stolen some food and money, but only so little that the person he stole it from wouldn’t mind or even notice. Hopefully.

More minutes passed by. The view started changing. It started to look like they were leaving the city. _ ‘Taking you to the nearest station, my ass’ _, Peter thought. But he wasn’t going to fight with the officer the more he had already. So he stayed quiet, trusted that this was a real cop and not someone just cosplaying as one, and continued to look out of the window. He wondered if he had ever passed by this station they were going to.

His eyes focused on a small shop window as they stopped at a red light. It was the usual kind of store that sold everything you needed in a emergency - mostly food, but a small amount of hygiene stuff, too. And since this was America, some stores Peter had visited even had guns on display. The usual. He wasn’t sure why he was so interested in watching inside this little store than watching the people looking at the police car, for example. Some fuck was even taking a photo. Asshole. But Peter's attention was still focused on the little shop. Maybe it was because he could see someone buying something at the register.

Or maybe it was because he saw somebody pull a gun out and point it at the shop owner.

The traffic light turned green and Denice whatever-her-last-name-is continued driving. And something inside Peter, most likely his old self, came back alive. He suddenly felt heroic. “Yo, there’s a robbery happening in that store”, Peter commented. To his luck Denice actually listened and slowed down her car.

“You sure?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“100%. I swear I saw someone holding a gun”, Peter insisted. The officer thought for a few seconds, then muttered _‘to hell with it’_ and turned the car around, driving into the small parking lot in front of the store. 

“If you were lying, then I’ll write that down”, she threatened, leaving no effect on Peter because his list of small crimes had already grown long by now, one more wouldn’t hurt too much. Besides, he had spoken the truth. Maybe snitching on that guy would help Peter escape from being arrested … No, he still had his handcuffs on. No way he could live with them the rest of his life. So when Denice parked her car and stormed inside the store, Peter sat there nice and quiet.

Peter doesn’t regret not trying to escape. He has the front seat to the arrest happening inside the store. He watched through the window as Denice went in and took her gun out, then pointed it at the thief, who in return pointed his gun back. Then, there was a lot of yelling. And then, the cashier behind the counter had suddenly pulled out a baseball bat and hit the man on the back of his head. The thief fell down on the floor, his gun was taken away, Denice got a hold on him. And then the show was over. Peter laughed at him, feeling like a hero for being a little snitch. 

It took only a minute for Denice to bring the guy out who was obviously in pain, but still conscious enough to kick around with his feet to try and get away. Peter laughed more as Denice slammed the man down on the hood of the car, moving his hands behind his back. But the man was struggling, yelling at her to let him go, trying to get up but after such a strong hit against his head, he was obviously not at his best shape. Denice told him to shut up and then reached for something, but then her face went a little pale. Whatever she was looking for, wasn't there.

“Kid, get out of the car”, the officer suddenly yelled, kicking at the passenger door. Peter first hesitated, before reaching for the handle and opening the door. He slowly stepped out, noticing how Denice had one hand over her holster, one hand holding both of the guy’s hands behind his back. Impressive. “Come closer”, she ordered again. Peter thought about saying ‘no’ and just running away, but the gun was making him sweat so he did as he was told. He wasn't gonna get shot today.

Instead of her gun, Denice reached for her pocket and pulled out a few keys chained together and watched her take one out. Then, she moved it to the keyhole of Peter’s right handcuff and voilà, his right hand became free. For a moment Peter thought that he was going to be free from the handcuffs, and the officer was giving them to this criminal instead.

But dreams didn’t come true so easily. He watched as Denice moved the other end of the handcuff around the man’s right hand and locked it. Peter blinked. He looked down at his left hand, the handcuff tight enough to bruise his damn skin wrapped around it. His eyes then followed the chain leading up to this other man’s right hand. _Shit. _He was cuffed together with the guy he snitched on.

“Hey. Hey! What the hell is this?” the man shouted out as he noticed the situation. Peter wanted to yell, too, but all he could do was to stand there dumbfounded.

“The only way to have you both trouble makers restrained”, Denice said. And in a second it became clear that she only had one pair of handcuffs and felt the need to keep both Peter and this stranger chained. Suddenly, Denice didn't seem so professional anymore, and Peter wanted to kick her again. “Now get in the car. Peter, you first.”

Peter slowly moved into the backseat, watching the officer push the guy inside with him. Soon, the door was slammed shut and locked, and Denice went inside the shop to probably ask some questions. And Peter was left alone with the criminal he had just snitched on.

It was so awkward. Peter kept staring down at their hands locked together, way too close to each other for his comfort. He questioned the cop’s motives, because who in their right mind would think that locking two strangers together like this would be a good idea? This man could be a murderer and thanks to this dumbass cop, Peter’s gonna be an easy victim. But then, what kind of a murderer would kill someone while fully knowing he wasn't going to get away with it?

He turned his head to look at the guy next to him. To his surprise, this man didn’t look like a bad guy at all. Sure, he was constantly gritting his teeth and trying to force the door open, but otherwise he looked like as normal as anyone else you would cross paths with. He had brown hair and a growing beard, and if Peter even dared to say, handsome facial features. Why was such a model-looking fella trapped in a cop car with a troubled teen?

“What’s your crime?” Peter suddenly blurted out and instantly hated himself more than he usually did. He did have a habit of just spitting out whatever was in his mind - like he did in class a lot because teachers actually liked it when Peter was so involved in the subject. Other students hated when Peter just shouted the answer instead of raising his hand just like the others, though. He already felt like this man was not going to like Peter’s talkative nature.

“Are you stupid or what?” the guy said. “You just saw me getting arrested for trying to rob a store.”

Ah, true. Peter went silent and looked back down at his lap, listening as the guy rammed his hand against the window, obviously not being able to break it. “What’s your name?” Peter then asked when the silence was getting too much for him to take. He could hear the guy sigh deeply, then he saw him roll his eyes.

“Winnie the Pooh.”

Peter actually laughed at that a little.

Once Denice came out of the store, she was holding a dirty old backpack. She lifted it up next to her face and pointed at it. “Yeah, that’s mine. Give it to me”, said ‘Winnie the Pooh’, or the guy who was still just a stranger. Ignoring his yelling, Denice walked to the back of the car and threw the backpack in, most likely right next to Peter’s bag, before she moved to the front and entered the front seat.

“Your name, new boy?” Denice asked as she started up the car.

“He said he’s called Winnie the Pooh”, Peter answered the question for him, and to his amazement, the stranger next to him snorted and grinned widely.

“Good to see you two are already friends”, Denice sighed. “But I’m gonna need your real name, sir.”

“Beck. Quentin Beck”, the man finally answered. “Do you also need my birthday, horoscope and shoe size?”

“I’ll ask those at the station so I can write them down, Mr. Beck”, Denice said and started driving. Peter wished he would have been referred to as ‘Mr. Parker’, too. But everybody saw him as a kid.

  


The car ride was mostly silent as they started driving outside of Washington, leaving the city behind. Peter noticed this when the view was turning from buildings to trees. He had seen a lot of views during his little trip, but his favorite one was the small city view where you could see the lights sparkle at night with a few trees in the horizon. The best part of traveling was seeing new places, after all, and Peter had seen it all. He wish he could see the world more. Before he had ran away, he had wanted to be a photographer or a scientist or something, but now he had enjoyed living without a home, all of his belongings on his back and the outside world just waiting for him to come and explore it. He swore to himself that if he was able to get out of this damn cop car, he would continue seeing the country, and hell, maybe even cross the border. Life was oddly easy when you didn't have so many belongings to worry about.

Peter wondered what station they were going in the first place. Denice had first claimed they were going to the nearest one, but that plan had obviously changed. Maybe she was heading to the station where she personally worked at, and that station just wasn’t in Washington. Peter wondered what she had been doing in Washington anyway. Had she been after him? How many people had been looking for him in the first place? Did his aunt really miss him that much that she --

“You’re the runaway kid, aren’t you?” Beck suddenly asked and Peter had been so deep in his thoughts that he jumped a little.

“A what now?” he mumbled.

“The kid who ran away from home. I thought I had seen your face somewhere before”, Beck explained. “Your face was on a milk carton once.”

Peter rubbed his eyes, feeling embarrassed suddenly. He could hear Denice chuckle. “Your face has been around, too, Beck. Don’t get cocky now.”

And just like that, Beck’s confident smirk was erased away, and he was back to trying to get out of the car. He kept trying to just open the door by pressing the handle down, but that didn’t work obviously. Beck then started focusing on the handcuffs, dragging Peter’s hand around with him as he tried to pick the lock with his longest nail, then trying to simply slip out. Denice wasn’t very happy when she noticed this happening.

“Stop doing that”, she ordered. Beck didn’t listen, but continued trying to slip out, his hand pressing his thumb down in hopes that he would have an easier time slipping out of the handcuff. Peter just silently watched, deciding he didn’t want to try and fight back. This Quentin Beck seemed like a guy who would just knock him out if Peter said the wrong thing.

“I said stop it”, Denice shouted now, looking over her shoulder a lot.

“Go fuck yourself”, Beck muttered and tried to force his hand out of the cuffs by pulling it out, even spitting down onto his own hand in hopes it would work as lubrication and magically help him out. Denice kept one hand on the wheel and reach back with her other hand, trying to get Beck to stop.

“If you don’t stop that shit right now, I will --”

** _C R A S H_ **

  


It all happened so fast.

  


Peter had only seen something brown jump in front of the car, crashing against the windshield and dying on the spot. The car lost its control from the impact and it swung from right to the left to the right again until it moved out of the road and crashed against a tree. And then it was deadly quiet.

His body had went forward when they were first hit, causing him to bump his nose against the seat in front of him, soon causing it to bleed. When the car had stopped moving, Peter was facing a horrible headache, small aching all over his body and a bloody nose that was dripping like hell. There was a small ringing in his ears, too, that only disappeared when he heard Beck cursing at himself.

“What the fuck just hit us?” he grunted as he switched in his position and started kicking the door open. It took him about seven strong kicks until the already damaged door finally gave out and they were free. Without checking on Peter, Beck started climbing out of the car, forcing the younger one to follow him despite feeling a little dizzy. Beck dragged them to walk over to the front of the car, only for them to find a tree that had completely wrecked the front, and a dead deer almost stuck against the windshield. Blood has spattered around and the glass had broken into pieces, luckily not damaging the passengers. Expect the driver. Denice’s body was leaning heavily forward with her head laying down against the wheel, making the car horn sing loudly, which Peter only seemed to hear once he was more aware of the situation. He still felt like he had to lay down. The world was so blurry in front of him that he felt like he would see better with glasses.

Beck didn’t seem hurt at all, or maybe he simply wasn’t showing it. He walked to the driver’s seat and opened the door, lifting Denice’s head so it wasn’t blowing on the horn, and then starting to go through her pockets.

“Is she okay?” Peter mumbled out. He was blinking heavily, holding onto his nose to try and keep the blood from coming out. 

“She’s fine”, Beck said, despite the fact that Denice wasn’t moving and that her face was covered in blood, most likely because she had suffered from a head injury. Beck quickly looked over his shoulder since someone kept tugging on the handcuffs and noticed Peter was covered in blood, too. “Look up at the sky”, he adviced, and Peter did as he was told. He wasn’t sure if holding his head up actually helped to stop the bleeding, but he remembered doing this as a kid, too, so maybe it had some effect. Peter started counting clouds while Beck rummaged through the car, reaching as far as he could with his hand. Suddenly, he cursed loudly.

“I can’t find the stupid key”, Beck muttered, still leaning inside the car, moving Denice’s body around to make sure he has went through all of her pockets. But he couldn’t find what he needed, so he shouted and kicked the car with his foot before going back in to try and find something else useful. He ended up taking Denice’s gun from her holster, before heading to the trunk, poor Peter trying to keep up with him.

As Beck opened the trunk, he put his own backpack on his back, then threw Peter’s backpack towards him, causing it to hit Peter’s face and hurt his nose even more. “I guess we’re walking”, he said, and without another word, he started stomping over to the road, wanting to leave this scene behind him. Peter yelped as the handcuff rubbed against his skin in an irritating way, and he had to almost jog after the other man in order to keep up with him. 

“Shouldn’t we … Shouldn’t we get the key?” Peter asked as he looked back at the car, still feeling like this was all a dream and he had actually fallen asleep in the car, imagining something like this happening so he could run away. But he was slowly getting back into reality, and no matter how unreal this felt, it was all really happening.

“Couldn’t find it anywhere. It probably flew God knows where during the crash … So let’s just go”, was the only thing Beck told him about his intentions.

“But shouldn’t we get help for her?” Peter stopped dead in his tracks and looked back, making Quentin almost fall down when he had tried to keep on walking. These handcuffs were going to make traveling extremely hard when they both wished to go different directions. “I mean, it would be wrong to just leave her --”

“She’s dead, okay?” Beck gritted his teeth. “There’s nothing we can do. We gotta go. _Now._”

Beck started pulling again, his free hand holding firmly onto the officer’s gun as he tried to patrol forward. But Peter fought back.

“Do you not have a heart?” he asked, trying to not follow this man, but it was difficult when Beck was much stronger than him and could drag him around like a small dog on a leash, and that their hands were cuffed together which made getting personal space extremely hard.

“I guess I don’t”, Beck muttered. “Listen. You don’t wanna get arrested either, right? We both wanna be free. So let’s just ... keep walking and try to find somebody who can help us out of these cuffs. And then we go our separate ways and live our own happily ever afters. Perfect plan, so follow it.”

And Beck continued pulling. At the end, Peter simply decided he was too tired to fight back and started walking after him, holding onto his nose and tilting his head back so his shirt wouldn’t be ruined any more than it already was.

  


Walking after Quentin Beck was a task, especially if your hands were handcuffed together. Beck was fast on his feet, eager to just leave everything behind and run away, while Peter was constantly hesitating whether he should follow this crazy man nicely or try to knock him out with his backpack. But Peter’s head was still humming a little and his nose didn’t seem to stop bleeding any time soon, so he felt like he had no choice but to follow. He wasn't sure how long they had to walk, or how long they had been walking already because at this point Peter was so deep in his thoughts that he was almost falling asleep and just moving on autopilot.

Before Peter had ran away from home, he had this idea in his head that America no longer had trees left. That there were cities everywhere. No more forests. No more nature. No more oxygen. He had been wrong, which made him feel stupid because he was actually a bright kid. Right now, they were surrounded by trees, some of them cut down just so a road could be build over them. And he and this … fucking maniac were following the road, walking by the edge of it, trying to stay as far apart from each other as possible with only a little ray of hope of survival. On top of that, they were in the middle of nowhere, so far from human population that a passing car would be considered a blessing from God. When Peter's nose stopped bleeding, Peter tried to come up with a plan to get back to the cop car, try to find the keys again, maybe see if the cop was alive after all, or see if they could get the body out and drive away. But walking behind this Quentin Beck, a guy taller and wider than him, made Peter feel weak.

"How did the cop even decide to just randomly come and arrest me? Shit makes no sense", he could hear Beck muttering to himself as he stomped forward, dragging Peter with him. He seemed angry. Maybe even anxious after such thrilling events. Peter was more frightened than angry. Seeing Denice die reminded him of his uncle.

“You were robbing a store?” Peter said, squinting his eyes. “I saw you.”

Beck suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, then spun around. Peter jumped a little in surprise, knowing that if there was gonna be a fight, he would only get a few punches and kicks in if he was lucky before Beck would kick the shit out of him. He took a step back, as far as he could, his left hand outstretched forward.

“Are you saying you snitched?” Beck furrowed his brows, then slowly turned his hands into fists. “You fucking snitched on me?”

Beck tugged with his cuffed hand, making Peter move closer to him involuntarily. Peter swallowed and tried to hold his chin up, tried to appear much tougher than he actually was. "Deep down inside, I'm a good citizen", he said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Come here you fucking bitch --"

Beck took one large step forward and reached for Peter with his free hand. Peter quickly crouched down, slipped under Beck’s arm and tried to run away, like some idiot. Beck grunted and almost fell down as he turned around to come after Peter. But he was smarter than the kid this time. He stopped dead on his tracks, pulled his own right hand towards his body strongly, and thanks to the handcuffs that tied the two of them together, Peter flew back on his ass. And then Beck was moving on top of him.

"Hey hey hey! Calm your fucking ass!" Peter immediately shouted and started kicking and squirming and screaming like a banshee, or like a kid having a tantrum. Beck pressed his knee on top of Peter’s stomach, gently enough to not hurt him, but hard enough to keep him down and feel frightened. Both of Beck’s hands were trying to reach for Peter, to punch or choke him - he hadn’t decided yet, but Peter just kept slapping around with all of his might. One slap against Beck’s cheek made the man reach into his pocket and pull out the gun he had stolen from the cop and point it directly in the middle of Peter’s forehead. “Slap me one more time, I dare you”, Beck said.

“Or what, you’re gonna shoot me?” Peter tried to pretend he wasn’t scared of a gun. But he really was. He had never been this close to death. He hated guns after what happened to Ben, and he didn't want to be near them.

“Yeah. I’m going to shoot your brains out if you don’t shut up”, Beck muttered and pressed the gun down harder, hard enough to leave a red mark of a ring on Peter’s forehead.

“Ah, that would be a bad move”, Peter licked his lips slowly. “You’d have to drag my dead body around. Explain that to anyone who’s nice enough to give you a ride.”

Quentin seemed to think for a while, but his expression didn’t even flinch. “Well, then I’ll just chop of your arm”, he said, raising his eyebrows and making a smug smile.

“With what?"

"My teeth if I have to."

Peter couldn’t help but grin. "But my hand might still be stuck on the handcuffs. I mean, I can just barely move my wrist around. See?” Peter lifted his left hand and twisted it left and right, showing that the handcuff wasn’t freely around his wrist, but almost tight enough to turn his hand blue. “It’s even creepier to carry a hand with you than the full body. Makes you look more like a Hannibal-wannabe who carries a snack with him. And even if you did manage to get free from me completely, you’d still have that metal bracelet on you.”

Beck sighed deeply and swallowed, maybe slowly realizing that killing Peter was not a good plan, for now at least. “Then I’ll just break my thumb or something and slip out.”

Peter blinked strongly. “Can’t you do that now?”

“Can’t_ you?_”

“Why is it always me who has to get hurt?”

Beck looked down at him for an awkwardly long time before he started laughing, his smile one of the prettiest things in the whole world. Peter couldn't help but stare with wide eyes, before he laughed a little too - only that his laughter was forced, just something he did to pretend the two of them were friends now. Beck sat down on the ground next to Peter, moved his backpack to his front and put his gun inside it as to show they had made peace. “You’re funny, kiddo”, he said, closing the zipper. “What’s your name again?”

“Peter”, he answered quietly. “Peter Parker.”

“Okay, Peter Parker”, Beck said and stood up, once again acting like they weren’t handcuffed together because Peter was forced to get up too, his wrist hurting every time Quentin yanked him where ever he wanted to go. “Keep your mouth shut. We have a long way to go.”

Despite not knowing where they were even going, Peter followed this man, deciding to trust his decisions for now. He only hoped they could find something that would help the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a lot longer, but as always, I write too much and I don't want the reader to get tired of my super long chapters, so I cut this into two pieces. Stay tuned for more!


	2. Chapter 2

Walking somewhere in the woods outside Oregon was surprisingly nice if you ignored the deafening silence and the awkward tension. A sign of the night growing closer became clear when the sky turned into a nice firework of colors - a soft hue of pink, a strong vibrant orange, and the higher you looked the more purple the color turned. That sky painted together with the tall trees was worthy to be displayed in an art gallery. The downside was that Peter didn't have his phone to snap a picture to memorize this moment forever.

On the side of the road two men walked together, chained to each other like prisoners. One of them was named Peter Parker who had just turned nineteen. He regretted his choice of running away from home. Not only because he had made his aunt and his friends worry about him, but also because he had ended up being arrested, chained to a stranger, and ruining his whole life. He felt hopeless, each step adding more weight to his body, and soon he would feel so down that his feet would no longer take him forward. But he had to. He had to walk somewhere, at least.

His left hand hurt. Not because of the handcuff itself despite being quite tightly around the bone, but because of Beck’s constant pulling and tugging. He was the leader, and Peter didn’t have the strength to fight back so all he could do was follow him, not because he wanted to, but because he didn't want to hurt his wrist anymore. Speaking of Quentin Beck, Peter had no idea who he was. He knew Beck had tried to rob a store, but that’s all he really knew. He didn’t know what kind of a man he was, what he had been through to make him try to steal some money from a cash register from a tiny shop. Peter remembered that the police officer, Denice, had mentioned something about Beck’s face being tossed around, too. You know, on posters or the news, just like Peter’s face had been shown in every form of media there was. But it was unsure if Quentin Beck was a missing person, or some sort of a wanted criminal who had a spot waiting for him in prison. And if his face had been on the news, then it meant he wasn’t the ‘good’ kind of criminal who had only done something small and almost meaningless. It meant he had done something bad, something that kept Peter on his toes.

Peter walked behind the man awkwardly, his eyes glued to his backpack. He knew Quentin had a gun in there. What else did he have? Stolen money from another place this guy had robbed? Clothes, water, condoms, food? Peter himself didn’t have much packed. He had money, more than enough for survival, but when he left home he had a lot more than he did now. He had been saving for a car. Now all that money has went to train and bus tickets, food and new cleaner clothes. 

He couldn’t help but worry about the gun Beck had. He constantly wanted to ask Beck to drop it, to toss it away, but then there would be questions, more anger, more _'why should I dispose of the only thing protecting us?'_ And Peter wasn’t gonna explain why he disliked guns. He had to move on from what had happened to his uncle Ben.

“About your gun”, Peter mumbled out, apparently loudly enough for Beck to hear it. "Is it loaded?"

“The gun I have now or the gun I had when I tried to rob that store?” Beck immediately answered him, speeding up his walking a little. “I don't use a real gun when I'm robbing somebody. I have twitchy fingers. This one I have in my backpack, on the other hand, is loaded. You afraid?” Beck looked over his shoulder and gave an emotionless look to Peter. He was most likely expecting Peter to confess he was afraid to be chained up with him, but Peter shook his head. “No”, he said. “It’s just a gun.”

“It’s more than a gun”, Beck said, and then just left it at that. When Peter had progressed his words, it was already too late to continue this conversation, so he stayed quiet.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them had been walking, but soon they saw a shop in the distance. No, it was a gas station, a very small one. A sign of a city coming closer to them. A sign of rescue. The moment Beck saw the station, he stopped scratching his beard and started almost running towards it, completely ignoring how Peter yelped and told him to slow down. It seemed like a store was more important than Peter’s feelings.

The gas station was as small as it could be with only one spot to gas up your car and one place to leave your car if you were to visit the store. Outside there was a table and two benches on both sides of it and a door to a unisex bathroom that already looked like the most unsanitary place on Earth. The store looked as simple as it could be, most likely only selling overpriced essentials to any kind of traveler that was passing by. Pulling his sleeve down to try and hide the fact the two of them were handcuffed, Beck headed towards the bathroom without questions. Peter started sweating a little.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To the bathroom. Isn’t it obvious?” Beck asked, and soon he reached for the doorknob and moved inside. The bathroom was small, only build for one person at a time. The floor looked a little dirty, one corner was full of toilet paper rolls and one wall was covered in writing. _“I was here”. “No you weren’t”. “CA + IM”_. And what is a wall full of graffiti without a shitty drawing of a penis?

“How are we gonna do this while being handcuffed together?” Peter asked, raising his left hand and shaking it until the chain between their ‘bracelets’ was clinking. Beck thought for a while and looked at the door, then the toilet itself. He first wanted to suggest one of them staying outside the door somehow, maybe with their arm stretched out to the inside the bathroom, while the other one did their business. But sadly this bathroom didn’t let that be possible because the toilet was too far away from the door.

“You’re just gonna have to turn away”, Beck sighed in defeat and locked the door. Then, he walked over to the toilet and unbuckled his belt. 

“Oh for fuck’s --- sake”, Peter cursed and quickly turned around, staring at the drawings on the wall. He felt awkward as hell, but there was something else that made the tension rise up in his stomach. “Just do it fast.”

“No, I think I will take my time. I’d rather shit in here than in the forest”, Beck said. “You should, too.”

“Oh my God.”

\--

After an experiment that made the two of them despite each other even more, and stealing two rolls of toilet paper just for the hell of it, Peter and Beck headed outside and moved to the store, their faces dead serious as they tried to just forget what had happened.

The store was cozy on the inside. There were only four aisles full of food and three refrigerator shelves that were half empty. The store didn't have a very wild selection of food. In fact, it offered more snacks than anything that could work as a healthy meal. At the back of the store they sold camping stuff like fishing rods, tents and sleeping bags, cheap enough to let you know their quality was far from good. And that was the store in all of its glory. 

A nice middle aged lady welcomed them into the store and asked immediately how she could help them. She was either too qualified to be working at such a small gas station, or then she was so bored out of her mind that when someone did finally step in through those glass doors, she couldn’t help but show her excitement. She was practically jumping on her spot, ready to give a tour over her little station.

“Looking for anything specific, dears?” she said, already speaking like she was 80-years-old, which Peter thought was quite sweet.

“Yeah, um …”, Beck started, then licked his lips. He then did his best to hide their handcuffs and stepped in front of Peter, holding his cuffed hand behind his back. “We saw some dogs … or wolves, I’m not sure … making a mess outside. We did pick up some of the trash they spread out, but then left when the dogs refused to leave.”

Peter stared at Beck, squinting his eyes strongly. _What was this man planning?_

“Oh dear. That’s what you get when you have a station near the woods”, the lady chuckled, then moved away from the counter. “I’ll go check it out. Don’t want this place looking dirty, after all!” In under 10 seconds the lady had left the shop and was moving to the back, jogging as she went to look for the dogs that didn't even exist.

“What are you on about?” Peter asked in confusion.

“I got rid of the clerk. Now it’s time to steal”, Beck told him. And then he moved faster than light as he spun his backpack to his front, opened it and started putting things inside it - The first thing he saw was a pack of chips, sadly a small one, but he threw it in anyway. He skipped through the sweet candies, meaning he wasn't much of a sweet tooth.

“I cannot believe you. What if there are cameras?” Peter immediately started panicking and looked around, peeking out of the window in fear of seeing the store owner rushing back inside once she had realized she had been lied to.

“There aren’t. I already checked them”, answered Beck as he moved to the shelf filled with sanitary products. He grabbed deodorant and then a bottle of something Peter would rather not know about. Then, Beck even grabbed condoms with a chuckle. This man sure wouldn't let this moment get to waste.

“You’re a master criminal”, Peter huffed out. He couldn’t believe that he was handcuffed to a guy who had obviously stolen things before, and was stealing things right now! Beck seemed to know what he was doing - He was moving fast, constantly looking around, had checked if there were any cameras, and had even come up with a lie to get rid of a pair of eyes. Impressive. But wrong. Yet, Peter wasn’t trying to stop him, because he would rather have it like this than have Beck pointing his gun at somebody in order to get what he needed.

“A man’s gotta eat”, Beck snickered. His next stop was the drinks, where he took two bottles of beer, something that Peter had never tasted because if he was honest, he had childlike taste buds. Or maybe alcohol was just a taste he hadn’t get used to. After all, he wasn’t the kind of guy who was invited to many parties, and his aunt never let him drink anything spicier than soda because he wasn't 21 yet.

Beck managed to put can of beans inside his backpack before the door opened and he quickly closed his backpack and pretended like the two of them were still looking around. “Did you see any wolves?” Beck immediately asked, a strong smile over his face.

“None at all. And no mess, either”, said the store clerk.

“Well that’s good. Looks like we managed to scare them off, then.”

“Thank you for the warning. I’ll try to check the back more often. We only take the trash out once a month, so it’s no surprise animals go digging in there.”

Beck just chuckled as an answer, then muttered something to Peter about _‘getting the hell out of this store, right now’_. But Peter was smarter than that. He knew that if they left the store empty handed, they would look suspicious. So instead of listening his orders, Peter for once took the lead and started going through the isles, pushing the cheapest foods and drinks into Beck’s lap. Carrying a few groceries shall be the punishment for a man who just jumps into action without telling his partner about his plan.

They walked over to the cashier with ready made sandwiches, small meals that you could eat despite them being cold and a few bottles of water. Basically everything they needed to survive, something Beck hadn’t decided to steal. As Peter was searching for his wallet - with only one hand because they were still desperately trying to hide the handcuffs -, his eyes ended up looking at the traveling section. For a moment, he thought about buying a tent, but then noticed the price which was too high for him to afford. He then looked at a sleeping bag, then at Beck.

“Do you have a sleeping bag?” he asked. Beck made a weird face in return and asked _‘why would I?’_, which was his way of saying _‘I don’t plan ahead that much, I sleep in the dirt if I have to’_. Peter sighed and told the cashier he wanted to purchase one, having to pay almost 30 dollars more. Now he had lost half of his cash that he had left, but hopefully it was going to be worth it. And with a common thief by his side, he felt sure - and a little uncomfortable - that they were going to get money somehow in the future, too.

“You buying me a bed?” Beck chuckled and took the sleeping bag under his free arm when the cashier offered it to him with a smile.

“I have my own in my backpack. I’d rather buy you one than have you stealing mine”, Peter said quietly, paid for his stuff, clumsily put it all inside his backpack that was starting to get full, and then took a map of the area that was handed free from the counter, most likely for tourists. As they were leaving, the lady behind the counter smiled and waved at them, thanked them for stopping by, and then joked about wolves which in return Beck shouted something stupid back at her.

There weren’t any cars outside the station, so Peter and Quentin couldn’t beg for a ride, so they started following the road again, the heavy weight of their backpacks already making their body ache and move slower. To their luck, the sun wasn’t out and it was actually quite chilling outside, but soon their bodies would start to sweat a little and the cold breeze would only feel nice and comforting. For a moment, it was completely silent between them again. Beck looked behind them to see if anyone was coming before he turned back to Peter, clearing his throat before opening his mouth to speak. “How do you have so much money?”

“Uh”, Peter mumbled out, avoiding his gaze. “I was saving it for a car.”

“You couldn’t buy one before you ran away from home?” Beck raised his eyebrows at him. “You could have went anywhere you wanted, and much faster.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to look at the man like he was some sort of an idiot. “I would have been broke as hell. And fucked when I would have ran out of gas.”

“Oh, right.”

Beck turned silent and tried to stuff both of his hands into his pockets, dragging Peter closer in the progress. Peter was getting real tired of Beck moving like they weren’t cuffed together - now Peter’s hand was hanging too close to his thigh. It made him feel weird to be this close to a man.

“You know, you’re really stupid sometimes”, Peter said bluntly. “But at least you’re good at being a thief.”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Beck’s tone was sarcastic as hell, so Peter hoped he hadn’t hurt his feelings.

\--

After 30 minutes of walking down by the road with only one car passing them by so fast they couldn’t even lift up their thumbs, Peter decided to look at the map he had taken from the gas station. It opened up to be much larger than he expected, so after a few complaints from Beck the two of them stopped to look at it. It took them a few minutes to first find the station itself, then a minute to figure out which way they had went on the map. Soon they could point out where they were currently and what was going to be waiting ahead.

“What’s that?” Beck pointed at a strong black line that curved through the forest and right behind the gas station itself. Peter squinted his eyes a bit harder. “Oh. I think that’s a railroad”, he answered. “Not the kind that carries passengers, but a railroad anyway.”

Beck opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and seemed to go into deep thought. “You wanna jump on a train?” Peter asked. 

“I’d rather jump under it.”

Peter laughed a bit too loudly, then almost choked a little when he saw Beck staring at him like there was something wrong with him. “I have done it before, it’s pretty fun. Some trains that carry like wood or something actually move pretty slow sometimes. It’s easy to --”

“Alright, runaway kid, we can catch the train”, Beck said, tilting his head as he looked at the map, then to their right, most likely double checking that they were going to head to the right direction.

“Don’t call me a kid”, Peter said, folding the map and putting it into one of the side pockets on his backpack.

“You’re a kid compared to me”, Beck chuckled, tied the sleeping bag to hang from the harness of his backpack, and then headed towards the forest, once again dragging poor Peter by the arm.

  


The trees were extremely tall in the nature, at least three times higher than the trees in your yard or in the city that hadn’t been cut down yet. These trees were also greener, somehow more healthier looking, like they were truly breathing air and not the smoke cars released on them. They looked alive. The grass was greener too and far too tall, but it had a nice scent to it. One thing Peter liked about traveling was seeing the nature and how much wilder it was compared to the greens he saw in the city. The city view could be beautiful, but he enjoyed seeing something the nature had made itself. He liked looking at the moss growing around a large rock, or finding mushrooms that he didn’t know if he could eat or even touch. He liked seeing trees that weren’t always completely straight, but a little twisted at one part. Beck didn’t seem to mind the forest either, although he did complain about the constant uphill they were going, saying that if he wanted to exercise, he would go to a gym. For once, Peter seemed to be the stronger out of the two of them. He had walked a lot to not grow tired in a few minutes, and travelling by rocky roads had become the usual for him. 

Once they found the railroad, there was no train on sight so they continued walking by it, praying to a God neither of them believed in to send them a train to hop onto. When the sun had started going down, they finally heard a train approaching them. They stopped and watched as the train approached, an obvious cargo train that carried a long line of coal-cars and boxcars near the end. They waited for the boxcars because those usually had doors that you could open and climb inside to, if there was just room from all the cargo the cart was carrying. Beck was fast on action, jogging after the train that was going quite fast, but not fast enough that the two of them couldn’t keep up with it. He reached for the door, managed to get it open and soon he was already trying to hop inside of it, with his ass first looking for a seat. But Peter, despite being already used to train hopping, was having trouble getting inside. Who would have thought that doing literally anything would be a pain in the ass when you were handcuffed to another person?

But then something surprising happened. Beck had rolled his eyes first, then jumped off and started jogging by Peter’s side again. “Hop in first, darling. You can do it”, he said, giving him a smirk that was half-mocking, half-supporting. Peter took a few seconds to just stare at him before he sped up and reached for the floor of the cart with his right hand, then ran a little faster before bouncing up with his legs and twisting his hips to the side so his bottom landed on the floor of the cart. Beck followed him quite easily despite starting to turn a little red, and soon he managed to jump inside too. And then the both of them could finally rest. They took off their backpacks with a relieved sigh and leaned back, their palms pressed against the floor.

“Hey, this is quite nice actually”, Beck said. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, enjoying the breeze that felt much stronger now thanks to the fast movement of the train. Peter took his change to watch the man, just to inspect him better, and for some reason he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken a better look at Beck before. His hair didn’t seem dirty at all, but fluffy, a bit overgrown and soft to the touch. His beard had just started growing, being the exact length that Peter would prefer if he would grow a beard. If one would just look good on him. His eyes slowly looked down further, looking at Beck’s clothes. Mostly he was just wearing black. A leather jacket - unsure if it was even real leather or just some kind of cheap material that tried to look like leather - with a grey hood, dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt with no picture nor text on it. A casual outfit for someone who wanted to blend in. Completely different to Peter’s outfit which also consisted of just jeans, a shirt and a hoodie that had seen better days, but with much more color. A white t-shirt with a colorful picture on it did make a difference on your appearance.

He then ended up staring down at their hands, both resting quite close to each other -- Well of course they were, thanks to the handcuffs. But for the first time after being locked together, it no longer felt like a prison, but it was comfortable. Peter could almost consider them friendship bracelets, that’s how normal they suddenly felt like.

“You helped me”, Peter suddenly blurted out.

“Hm?” Beck opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You helped me jump in.”

“I helped you so you wouldn't fall and make us both miss the train”, Beck said back and turned his gaze over to the view passing fastly in front of them. “Besides, it made more sense for you to jump in first because of these.” Beck lifted his right hand and shook it around before laying it down, accidentally hitting Peter’s fingers gently. He apologized, and pulled his hand back as much as he could. Peter swallowed nervously, trying to memorize the feeling of their fingers touching for some reason.

“Yeah. Makes sense”, Peter said quietly and turned to look at the view, too.

A calming ride on a train they weren’t supposed to be in was surprisingly enjoyable. It helped Peter relax after everything that had happened today, from the crash to stealing things to the intense moment of trying to hop on this train. Despite feeling free and motivated to build a better future for himself, he also started to regret things. He regretted running away. But he regretted letting himself get caught more. He especially regretted not looking harder around the shop for any kind of tool that could help them get out of these handcuffs. Or just showing somebody the trouble they were in and ask for help. But he tried to stay hopeful, knowing that he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life being tied together with this man who carried a gun with him. Maybe things would turn better for the two of them and nothing bad would follow after them.

Suddenly Beck lifted his hand up and ran it through his hair, dragging Peter’s arm around with him. Peter was still not used to Beck just tugging and pulling him with him, especially when sometimes the angle of his hand made the handcuff press against his skin too hard.

“Ow”, slipped past Peter’s lips, gaining Beck’s attention immediately. He first gave a confused look, but then noticed how Peter’s hand was limp, just following after his movements.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry”, Beck said and laid his hand down. “I don’t know how, but I keep forgetting our hands are cuffed together.”

“Yeah. You’re just pulling me along”, Peter commented back, forcing a smile on his face because he didn’t want to seem too serious, or like a cry baby. “Sometimes it hurts a little. You know, ‘cos metal … pressing against skin … and shit.”

Beck gave him a cocky look. “So you prefer fur-covered handcuffs.”

This time Peter didn’t even bother to pretend to laugh.

“I’ll try to be more mindful in the future”, Beck said to him quietly. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

\--

The rest of their ride was quiet. Beck mostly just sat there, looking at the view like he was watching his favorite film, but it also looked like that he was so deep in his thought that his eyes never focused on anything particular but just observed the shapes of the trees. Peter didn’t know what to say to get the man out of it, and he didn’t know what he even wanted to talk about. His relationship with Beck hadn’t developed much in these past few hours, so the two of them were still strangers, refusing to get to know each other better because asking too many questions would be considered rude. So they both tried to enjoy their space, Beck simply relaxing and Peter organizing his very full backpack so the things he would need the most would be at the top.

When the sky started turning much darker and the train slowed down for a moment, the two of them took their chance to jump off and find a place to spend the night, since train hopping was illegal and neither of them wanted to be caught by the cops. Even if sleeping inside a boxcar would be nice since there was a door you could close, there was a danger that they would wake up when someone would try and collect their cargo. At least it was the very end of summer, the months between the heat and the snow, the ingrowing autumn that wasn’t close enough to turn the leaves red or hide the sun behind grey clouds, so neither of them were going to freeze to death. But autumn was going to soon come in. You could feel it in the wind.

Beck and Peter had seen some civilization pass by them, but once again they were surrounded by trees, feeling safe enough to find a place to camp in the middle of these woods, unsure how large it was, if there were any wild animals nearby, or if this certain forest was a jogging place for those who had the strength to work on their health. But for now the forest seemed quiet and empty and the best place to spend the night in without anyone finding them.

“Do you know where we are headed?” Beck suddenly asked, his eyes looking more tired than usual.

“I guess we’re headed towards … Uh”, Peter was stalling, trying to work the map inside his head, repeating where they came from and where they could possibly be headed. But if Peter was honest, he didn’t know the map of his own country that well. “I guess maybe … Oregon? I think we’re in Oregon.”

Beck just chuckled at him. “Do you live in Oregon?”

“No”, Peter shook his head. “I live in Humboldt County, California, although my aunt is planning to move to New York.”

Beck raised his eyebrows, smiled a little wider but in a way that showed his smile was fake and just an act of politeness, and huffed a little out of his nose. “That’s a lot of information about you in one single sentence.”

“I guess so”, Peter said. His head fell down to his feet as they walked past the trees, looking for a spot on the ground that was flat as possible and nice to lay on.

“Should we head there?” Beck asked, making Peter stop dead in his tracks, his face turning a little pale.

“Why would we?” Peter asked.

Beck spread his arms out a little and gave Peter that _‘are you seriously asking that?’_ \- look. “To take you back home, where you should be. You could start saving money again for that car of yours.”

Peter gave him an annoyed sigh as an answer and then stormed past him. “Thanks, but no thanks”, he said, dragging Beck with him. Suddenly, Peter decided he was tired of walking and just sat down on the ground, opening his backpack and taking all of his belongings out until at the bottom he found his sleeping bag that had been put into a tight roll to make it take as little space as possible. He spread out his sleeping bag, then started putting his other things back inside his backpack. Beck just stayed next to him silently, his jeans getting dirty from the knees.

“We should make a fire”, Peter then said, left his belongings on top of the sleeping bag to not let it drift away with the wind - even if the weather was fairly calm now -, and started walking around, collecting the smallest branches he could find. Beck didn’t help him, nor did he say anything. He simply followed after the kid, carrying whatever Peter ordered him to carry, stuffing two rocks into his small pockets and then holding the tree branches under his arm. Beck still didn’t say anything when Peter had made the fireplace and was now desperately trying to make a fire by clapping two rocks together or rubbing a stick between them, copying whatever he had seen cartoon characters do. Beck sat down lazily, taking his time putting his own sleeping bag on the ground with only one hand helping him, then rummaging through his backpack. He managed to find a pack of cigarettes that had been almost destroyed by the weight on top of it, but the loss wouldn't have been too much since only four was left. Beck placed one between his lips, took two minutes to find his lighter before he lit it up and started smoking.

"How's the fire going?" Beck spoke, huffed a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, then inhaled.

"Like shit", Peter muttered. "If we only had …"

Peter sniffed strongly, squinted his eyes and quickly turned to look at Beck, who was playing with the lighter and smirking at him. "What?" Beck said, moved the cigar out of his mouth, then leaned closer and blew a cloud of smoke right into Peter's face. Peter just blinked strongly and opened his palm, looking so tired that Beck knew annoying the kid would soon set him off, so he nicely gave him the lighter. Beck held back his laughter as he watched Peter rip the edges of the map to get something that set on fire easily and then move those pieces of paper between the branches, setting them on fire. And soon they had a fire, not a very impressive one since it was small, but it would had to work.

Peter had went awfully quiet suddenly, still a little annoyed that Beck hadn’t helped him set the fire. When he had started eating a sandwich that had been in his backpack for over a day, he tried to turn his back to Beck to show he didn’t wanted to be teased, not when the two of them were handcuffed and Peter couldn't get away to enjoy his own peace and quiet. After today, Peter felt like anything could make him angry because his situation was shitty and he was stressed, but he didn’t want to fight with Beck. He was just too tired right now. First he had tried to be somewhat optimistic, but now he was getting sleepy so every problem felt twice as bigger than they were.

Beck, on the other hand, seemed cheerful. Maybe he enjoyed being a jackass. Maybe he liked to piss other people off. Bullying was his sense of comedy. His attitude to certain things might be the reason he got into this situation himself. But despite first being extremely angry about being handcuffed, now Beck just seemed amused by it. Things had turned around for the both of them.

“Fuck, I smell like shit”, Beck broke the silence, put down whatever shit he had been eating and started to undress. But once he had one arm out of his jacket, he noticed he simply couldn’t pull it off, thanks to the handcuffs making undressing impossible. He cursed as he put his jacket back on again. “Great. How are we supposed to undress now?”

“Why would we undress?” Peter asked, poking the fire with a thin stick he had found near him. He poked too strong and the stick split in half like a weak bone, startling him a little.

“Because, as normal humans, we tend to change our clothes when they get dirty.”

Peter thought for a while, chewing onto his bottom lip. “If we really must, we could just cut our shirts off of us. That seems like the only option.”

Beck first nodded happily to that, but then he got even more confused. “How are we supposed to get a clean shirt on again, then?”

Peter tried to calculate how that would work, trying to imagine the two of them trying to change their shirts to see if it was in any way possible, but no, not even the brightest kid in school could make that a possibility. “I guess we won’t. We just gotta wear what we are wearing now for the rest of our lives”, Peter shrugged, thinking about ditching some of his clothes just so he could have more room in his backpack. Or they could use one of his shirt to simply wipe their armpits clean from sweat. He had no use for shirts he couldn't even change into.

“Well, shit. Shit, shit. I smell like shit. Fuck", Beck muttered mostly to himself.

Peter chuckled. “You smell just fine.”

“You have just gotten used to my smell.”

When Peter noticed he was laughing again, he felt immediately relaxed again, forgetting about the handcuffs, the car crash, the fact that he was running kind of low on money. He forgot that he was cuffed together to a stranger who seemed dangerous and annoying, and who obviously didn’t see much wrong about stealing, but somehow this Quentin Beck managed to be trustworthy no matter what. At least he seemed funny, the kind of funny Peter liked. Their sense of humor and sarcasm seemed to fit together, so Peter took that as a good sign. Laughter was the best medicine to any situation.

But laughter and sarcastic mean comments didn’t make Peter understand his partner any better.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked straightforward with no fear. “Why did you try to rob that store?”

Beck seemed quiet, so quiet that it was unsure if he was even going to answer at all. But the man noticed how Peter was staring right into his soul, and his gaze fell down between his legs with a heavy sigh. “I lost my job and was out of money. Been for a long, long time now. I didn’t know where else to get it”, he answered.

“Couldn’t get a loan? Or ask someone for help?” Peter asked, inching to sit closer to him just a little bit. Beck bit down onto his lip, then swallowed, then ran his hand over his face and then through his hair. 

“I did at first. But then I had to go on a run so just asking for some cash wasn’t an option”, he said quietly. Suddenly Beck seemed distant. He wasn’t angry, or sarcastic, or ready to create more problems on their list. He seemed extremely bothered about the subject. Peter started to feel uncomfortable too when he heard Beck sniff strongly, then inhale air strongly as he looked up at the sky, most likely pretending to look for the stars. But Peter believed he was maybe even fighting back tears. It was hard to tell.

“Where did you work before?” Peter asked, his free hand rubbing his knee.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you”, Beck muttered and threw the last of his cigar into the fire.

“Oh, c’mon. I wanna know why you got fired”, Peter said, half-kidding, half-serious. He teasingly punched Beck’s shoulder to show he was trying to cheer up the mood, and to his luck Beck took the hint and smiled. He quickly licked his lips and turned to look at Peter when he said: “I worked at Stark Industries.”

Peter’s mouth opened so wide that it must have looked funny because Beck started laughing a little more. “You’re lying!”

“No, I swear. I worked with Tony Stark”, Beck said, and suddenly he seemed to have more life in him as he shifted his position to turn his body more towards Peter. “He is as stubborn and mean as people say. He’s one of the richest men in the whole world yet he still acts so lazy.”

Peter, a kid who had always admired Tony Stark for his achievements, wouldn’t believe Beck’s words, denying them over and over again. Soon they were both fighting about whether Tony Stark was a good man or not, whether he deserved the money and fame he had. Peter believed he did. After all, Stark Industries develops and manufactures advanced weapons and military technologies which have been extremely useful for the country. On top of that, Tony Stark has funded a lot of projects and donated money to those who need it. Who wouldn’t like the guy? But Beck seemed to have a whole different opinion.

“I came up with this idea of … How do I say this ... Shortly explained it’s about holograms. Something I worked my ass off for. And do you know what Tony did?” Beck said, his tone of voice now growing deeper, more angrier. “He said it was ‘trash’. In fact, he was so disappointed in it that he got me fired. I lost my damn apartment because of that. And from what I’ve heard, Stark is now actually using MY project in HIS name.”

If Peter said he wasn’t shocked to hear this, he would be lying. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. All he could do was just stare at Beck for a couple of seconds with his eyes wide and mouth locked open. Beck was back to looking down at the ground and rubbing his face and scalp with his hand, something he seemed to do when he felt uneasy.

“I lost everything because my work wasn’t good enough. I no longer have a home to go back to”, he said quietly, then looked at Peter with a serious look in his eyes. “But you do.”

“Why should I go back home?” Peter muttered.

“Because you can”, was all Beck had to say to make Peter think. Beck left it at that, muttering something about making sure Peter gets back home where he belongs, before the man moved his sleeping bag close to Peter’s and slipped inside of it. Peter silently followed after him because he didn’t dare to stay awake any longer, now that every movement he would do would possibly bother Beck. Once he was inside his sleeping bag with his left hand stretched out, meeting with Beck’s hand, he stared up at the sky for long enough to hear Beck start snoring. Maybe Beck was right, for once. Peter actually could go home whenever he wanted and start his life again. But Beck seemed to be completely lost, drowning in debt and his own money problems, and he was homeless, too. Peter felt like there was more to the story, because he knew that something was stopping Beck from getting proper help. Or had he been so desperate to survive that the only thing he could do was to steal?

Peter turned to look at Beck, his face turned away as he slept. He had dozed off almost immediately. His eyes looked down at his sleeping bag, and for a second Peter smiled because he felt like he had done the right thing when he bought him that. His eyes then followed Beck’s arm to his wrist, the handcuff around it, then his fingers close to his own. Peter bit down onto the inside of his cheek.

His fingers acted on their own as he moved one to gently poke one of Beck’s fingers, just to see if there was a reaction. Nothing. Peter moved his hand a little closer until the tip of his fingers ran over Beck’s palm. His skin felt a little rough around his hands. But his fingers felt a little more softer. Peter gently moved his index finger over and around Beck’s fingers as gently as he could, just feeling him, nothing more, nothing less. When he heard Beck move and change his position, Peter slowly pulled his hand away and pretended nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support on the first chapter, the comments made me really happy ; __ ; And I do apologize that this chapter turned out to be a bit long (and I wrote it when I was supposed to be sleeping). But I hope you still enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

** _CLACK_ **

** _CLACK_ **

** _CLACK_ **

This morning was cold.

Peter scrunched his nose and curled up into a tighter ball. His left hand, his chained hand, felt numb, so numb that twisting a single finger even for an inch felt like he was trying to lift a boulder the size of his house. Expect he didn’t have a house, neither did aunt May. They lift in a multi-storey building and their apartment only had two bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room mashed together with a small kitchen. And that place no longer was his home. His room was now this old sleeping bag that would not keep him warm if the season would turn colder. He rubbed his head down and tried to warm himself up again.

But as Peter slowly became more alive, stepping out of his deep sleep, his eyes slowly feeling ready to open again, he started to awaken. Something, or someone, was making this weird sound close to him. It felt like the ground was shaking right by his arm that was aching from being too straight the whole night. And suddenly --

  


** _BAM_ **

  


He had seen enough crime shows and shitty action films to know what a gunshot sounded like. Peter’s body jolted in reaction as he sat up and looked around, his vision still a bit blurry, his eyes and his whole face feeling dirty, his body still aching. Peter's heard was racing like hell and panic started to rise up in his body, his eyes circling the perimeter in fear of finding a group of police ready to arrest them. But when his eyes did get adjusted to being open again, he saw Quentin Beck knelt down next to him, holding a gun that was pointed towards the chain of the handcuffs.

“Did you just try to shoot me?” Peter panted out. He wasn’t sure why he said that. He had told Beck before that killing him would be stupid if the two of them were still handcuffed together. And he knew Beck wasn't stupid enough to shoot him and then drag his body around. But then came the question of what exactly Beck needed the gun for.

“No. I tried to shoot the chains. Should I aim for the lock, instead?” Beck greeted him, wishing him ‘good morning’ with a gun pointed at the handcuff around Peter’s wrist. Peter immediately pulled back in fear, shivers running up his spine.

“You’re as stupid as you look”, Peter grunted. “A bullet isn’t going to magically break us free.”

“That’s exactly what a therapist would say”, Beck said, and he smiled, the motherfucker smiled so widely his teeth were visible. But he did notice how Peter was not in the mood for this - how he was a mix of being horrified of the gun and annoyed by being awoken like this -, so Beck pushed the gun back inside his backpack. “Start packing. I wanna go.”

Peter wanted to give him a sarcastic comment about … something, anything would do as long as it pleased him and made Beck annoyed, but instead Peter just grumbled something under his breath and climbed out of his sleeping bag, getting ready to leave and continue their ‘adventure’ again. 

  
  
\--

It took them far too long to find the road again, then even longer to figure out which way to go. Their plan was still to head towards Humboldt County, and even if Peter was having second thoughts about going there, he decided to just give up and do what he was told. After all, Beck was the guy with the gun. He was also the guy who was eating chips while he was walking, claiming they were good enough for breakfast, and sometimes being nice enough to even force feed some to Peter. On times like these when Beck wasn’t so nice anymore but was annoying and creating more trouble for them, Peter secretly wished he had a large knife to cut off his own arm just to get rid of this man and continue his journey anywhere but home. At least he wouldn't have to listen to someone chew chips down his throat when he'd be alone.

A car passed them. Then another. Both of those cars seemed to speed up past them, most likely because they thought Peter and Beck where murderers on the run, or simply because their car was already full. Or maybe they didn’t want chips inside their car. At least after the fourth passing car, Beck had finished the chips and was now asking for water.

“You should have stolen some from the store”, Peter said, raising his eyebrows and smiling in a smug way. He knew that Beck was an idiot who stole things he definitely didn’t have the money for - which is kind of clever, because if you're gonna steal, steal something you can't afford -, but didn’t think to steal something useful. Peter, on the other hand, was always planning ahead, which is why he only got what he absolutely needed.

“Don’t be an ass”, Beck said. “Look, we can have a trade. Beer for a bottle of water? That’s a really good deal.”

“I don’t even drink.”

“Wow, we’ve got a virgin to hangover here.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had made fun of Peter for not getting stupidly drunk, fucking some chick he didn’t know and waking up in a dumpster with a killing headache every damn day. He sure was missing a lot! Even his aunt May had tried to force Peter to go to parties, to make new friends, to ‘loosen up and live his life’ like the other kids. But Peter never did. He didn't even like alcohol. But this was as good time as any to start going bad, so Peter agreed to the deal and got a weird skinny bottle of booze, just so Beck would stop teasing him and they could continue walking.

Fifth car was coming up from behind them, and as four times before, Beck lifted his thumb up to try and catch the attention of the car. This time, the car slowed down, early enough to soon park next to the two travelers. A window opened slowly, then a young white man leaned closer and peeked out. His face looked tough like he was ready to fight somebody, but he was wearing a friendly expression that turned him into a teddy bear. His blonde hair was in a stupid haircut but it somehow still looked sexy as hell, even if he wasn’t Peter’s type at all. And this guy was huge like hell. Probably strong enough to lift his own car.

“You two need a ride?” the man asked. 

“Yeah, thanks. We’d also like to know where the fuck we are”, Beck commented, and the man in the car laughed his ass off. He laughed maybe a little too hard, which made Peter feel a bit awkward.

“We’re pretty close to Oregon. I’m gonna pass by the town, so if you wanna ride, get in”, the man said. And then he moved back to the driver’s seat, waiting for them to get in. Beck opened the back door, hopped in, and Peter awkwardly followed after him, thinking in his head; _ ‘You shouldn’t enter a strange man’s car, but what choice do we have?’ _He slammed the door shut and immediately froze up when he realized the driver was at least bigger than he and Beck combined. Something felt off about him.

“Name’s Steve Rogers. Military service”, the driver turned to look to the backseat and reached out with his hand, expecting a handshake. Beck shook his hand strongly, then let go. Hesitating, Peter grabbed onto his hand too and shook it. Steve's grip was strong, almost crushing his bones into tiny pieces, but Peter was too polite to say anything about it. This man was so huge that it looked like he had been going to the gym since the day he learned to walk. And Peter, who was a skinny guy, felt intimidated by him. “Or, well, I used to be in the military. Now I’m just a dentist.”

“Jeez. How did you end up as a damn dentist?” Beck asked, not realizing how rude his question might have been.

“I know more about teeth than I know about women”, Steve joked, then turned back to the wheel and continued driving, going just a tiny bit over the speed limit. Then it got awkwardly quiet, and Peter had to occupy himself by looking around. The car was unusually clean and smelled like mint, which now kind of made sense. The seats were covered in brown leather, so not too soft to sit on in Peter's opinion. There was a small American flag sticker taped on the roof of the car, right by the driver’s seat, low enough for Steve to kiss his fingers and then press those fingers against the flag. God bless America. Other than that, the car had no soul, no story, no hints that the driver was actually nuts and was taking them to their doom.

“You two on a honeymoon or something?” Steve asked, looking to the backseat through the rear-view mirror, already cackling at his stupid comment.

“No, we’re just on a little road trip. Camping in the woods is surprisingly fun, I’ll tell you that”, Beck answered because Peter was frozen like a stone. He wasn’t good at lying, not like Beck was who seemed to be an experienced storyteller. He just spat out whatever he could think of and it managed to be believable. Peter, on the other hand, mumbled and got stuck on his words when he wasn’t prepared to talk, and he definitely wasn’t good at coming up with stories. He would let Beck do the talking this time, once again.

“You traveling on foot?” Steve asked, again looking at them through the mirror, then looking at the street, then looking back again. 

“Yeap. We’ve been hitchhiking a lot”, Beck said. “We think it’s exciting. Get to meet new people and everything.”

“I see”, Steve said quietly. “So, what’s up with the handcuffs?”

Peter looked down at their hands, noticing how far apart they were and how the chain between them was as straight as a pole, obvious to any catching eyes. Both of them tried to pull their sleeves down and move their hands closer, desperately trying to hide the metal but the damage had been done and they had been caught. And even this time Beck didn’t know what kind of a lie to come up with. Beck started to mumble something, trying to build up proper sentences, but he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth. Peter felt like he was starting to sweat the more his and Steve Roger’s eyes met, so he quickly blurted out: “It’s fashion.”

Steve seemed to choke on something. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s … it’s f-fashion. It’s very t-t-trendy right now”, Peter managed to muster out, giving his partner a glance that screamed for help but all Beck could do was roll his eyes and then hide his face behind his hand.

Steve scoffed: “If you think I’ll fall for that bullshit, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The car started to speed up just a little more. The tension seemed to grow higher. And suddenly it felt like they had stepped inside a serial killer's car. “You know, this isn’t the first time I have put criminals behind bars. And whatever is the deal with you two, I’m sure I can handle it without a fight”, Steve said calmly, continuing to drive like they were having a normal conversation and that nothing bad was happening at all. It was obvious Steve was trying to scare them, and it was working. Peter swallowed and started almost shaking in his seat. For some reason, this wannabe cop who still seemed to think he was living in a war was much scarier than any other person he had ever met. Steve Rogers looked like he could crush his skull with his thumb. Hearing him talking about taking the two of them to the hand of the law made Peter feel like this was going to be the end of everything.

He gazed over at Beck, noticing how slowly the man was moving. His free hand had started unzipping his backpack so quietly that nobody had seemed to hear it. Peter knew exactly what that meant. Their eyes met and Beck gave him a strong look that told him to keep his mouth shut. Peter silently nodded despite not wanting to.

“So, let’s just all be nice as I take you to the station. I must do what's right”, Steve said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as his other hand turned the radio on. _'I must do what's right', _Peter repeated the man's words in his head. If he was a detective of any sort, he would now detect that Steve Rogers must have lost someone in a war and was now playing a hero as a way to pay back his mistakes. Or then Peter's imagination was going wild when he was nervous. Steve smiled far too proudly and turned the radio on, a strong beat of old time rock music starting to play. “Let’s have a little ride, shall we?”

“Oh, we’ll have a ride, alright”, Beck said. “Stop the car.”

Steve laughed again, feeling extremely confident in himself. “Fighting with me is useless. You’re handcuffed and definitely not as strong as me. I advise you to just sit back and keep quiet if you don't want to get into trouble.”

Beck pulled out the gun in a swift move and pressed it against the back of the man’s head. “I said, stop the car.”

  


Steve hit the brakes so fast that everyone’s bodies jolted a little forward from the impact. The music continued playing loudly, but otherwise it was quiet around them. Peter’s eyes had opened wide as he looked at Beck pointing the gun at the driver, his finger steady on the trigger. He swallowed, wishing he wouldn’t see another blood bath today.

“Step out of the vehicle. Slowly”, Beck ordered, opening his own car door slowly. Steve seemed to hesitate, but all he had to do was to lean his head back to remind himself of the gun ready to end his life, and with a grunt he stepped out, moving as slow as a snail, his hands placing themselves behind his head the second he was standing. Beck slowly climbed out after him, pointing the gun at the military man, his eyes pierced on Steve to make sure he wouldn't suddenly try to disarm him. Peter clumsily followed after him, leaving their backpacks to the backseat, tripping on them a bit but soon getting his balance back.

“Listen, we can talk about this.” Steve Rogers was either begging for his life or trying to negotiate. But Beck didn’t trust him, not after what the man had said.

“Are the keys in the car?” Beck asked, raising his voice.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Beck slammed the back door shut so loudly that even the man who had first acted so tough had jumped in surprise. It wouldn't be a surprise that an old soldier had a dislike of guns being pointed at him. “Now, start walking towards the forest, and don’t look back.”

Steve sighed deeply. “Look, you don’t have to do this --”

“I said start walking.”

And Steve did. He slowly grossed over the road and walked over to the trees, his stupidly round ass swinging side to side, his back muscles hard as stone as his hands stayed steady behind his head. Peter couldn’t believe that a man like Beck - with not much muscle - had made a literal giant almost beg for his life. Once Steve had almost disappeared into the woods, Beck ordered Peter to climb inside the car, and he did, not because he wanted to, but because of fear. Peter first sat down on the driver’s seat, then moved to the passenger seat with a few grunts, nervously watching as Beck sat down, closed the door shut and gave the gun to Peter. It landed on his lap, right over his thighs. And all Peter could do was stare down at it, almost hearing the sound of bullets flying and somebody crying out to him. His fingers started to tremble, his toes turning to point at each other, sweat taking over his body. 

Everything was getting too much for him.

  


“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Beck chuckled as he started up the car, the engine roaring in delight as it became ready to continue its long adventure. Just when Beck’s both hands landed on the steering wheel, his attention turned towards the woods, and to his surprise he could see Steve running back to the car with a determined look on his face, an obvious need for him to act as an hero. Beck quickly pressed his foot down, not sure where, and the car moved a few meters back, just in time before Steve would have grabbed onto the door handle and open it. Steve stopped dead on his tracks, slipping down onto the ground so hard his pants almost ripped, but soon getting himself back up on his feet. He started coming after the car again, but Steve Roger’s need to pretend to be a hero became his very mistake.

Beck pressed his foot down on the pedal and drove forward as fast as he could go. Steve reacted fast enough to try and dodge the car by stepping a little to the right, but his body hadn’t moved fast enough. The car hit him against his left side, caused him to fly up just a little and then roll down onto the ground. Both Beck and Peter screamed, but the car continued moving forward, leaving the injured man behind. The last thing Peter saw of Steve Rogers was him laying down on the ground in the middle of the street, his head pressed against the concrete.

“Woooo!” Beck screamed, slamming his hands against the wheel happily, rocking his head in the beat of the radio. “Oh shit, that was crazy. America was not on his side this time, baby!”

He continued laughing, both of his hands on the steering wheel, Peter’s arm hanging numb in the air as he was too tired to even pull his hand back and take some control. He was used to having his left hand controlled by Beck. What he was not used to was … everything. He wasn’t used to seeing Beck pointing a gun, or driving over somebody, or leaving someone behind when they needed help, or stealing things that didn’t belong to him. Peter stared down at the gun silently, the sound of laughter and the music slowly fading away until there was only ringing in his ears. When uncle Ben had been shot, he and aunt May had cuddled up together and cried for hours, just holding each other. If he remembered right, May had said the same thing everyone else always says when someone has been shot; _‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.’_ And that uncle Ben had just been unlucky and was too kind to the wrong guy. Peter didn’t agree with the message. Guns killed people. Guns changed people. Guns made people feel like they could do literally anything without consequences.

Maybe that’s why Quentin Beck was laughing. He felt powerful. He felt like a God because of his gun that had helped him steal a car. He was too confident in himself.

He didn't want Beck to become like the guy who had shot his uncle.

So Peter simply rolled down the window, grabbed onto the gun and threw it out of the car.

  


Beck saw everything, and suddenly his victory song turned into rage, his face already red before he had even started yelling. “Hey, hey, hey! The hell was that for?” he shouted, his right arm grabbing Peter by the shoulder. It hurt a little first, but Beck’s grip on him loosened when he shook Peter, left and right, left and right, like he was trying to wake somebody up from a coma. “We need that gun! For … for surviving! What the fuck were you thinking?”

In moments like these, Peter couldn’t help but show his true side to the people around him. Before he had ran away, he had always been that quiet smart kid who was happy around his friends and always working hard. After becoming homeless, he had started to become more emotional, probably because before he had always been holding himself back because he wanted to be a prime example for others. Now, Peter got easily angry, got into trouble easily, wanted to fight people for the first time and … he cried. He cried like a baby. Because on the inside, he was an emotional wreck.

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. A sob broke through his throat and his cheeks turned warm, yet if he were to touch them his cheeks would feel dry and painful like the tears were tearing his skin off. Beck had went silent, most likely because of confusion. Just like everybody else who had seen Peter cry. Because boys don’t cry, do they?

"I don't fucking understand you! You want to run away because you don't wanna be arrested but you j-just … fucking … you just keep adding more problems to your list!" Peter shouted, as loud as he could but his throat was already aching, making it impossible to scream. It felt like he had knives growing inside of his mouth, and suddenly breathing felt a little harder and he constantly had to swallow something down his throat that refused to leave. He felt like he was choking. "Why do you keep acting like such an idiot?"

Quentin Beck really was an idiot. It was his idea to leave that poor cop behind to bleed out and seek for freedom instead. But at the same time he made things difficult, creating more problems and adding more crimes to his list that would sentence him on death row, if he were to get caught. Beck inhaled strongly and squeezed onto the steering wheel harder, trying to hold his anger back, but at the end he felt like he needed to let out some steam, too.

"Because I have nothing to lose anymore!" he said strongly, grabbing onto the gear level and twisting it - Peter didn’t know how cars worked so he didn't know what that did -, before returning his hands back again on the wheel, still ignoring Peter’s poor left hand hanging by his own.

"All I want is to start over and try to live my life again but I can't fucking do that because I've lost everything. Everything! You hear me?" Beck glared strongly at Peter whose eyes were just turning redder and wetter. Peter was having an impossible time holding his tears back. "Why does it matter to you what I do, huh?"

"I don't know", Peter whimpered, covering his face behind his hand, desperately trying to hide his tears. He didn’t know he could be this sensitive. He haven't cried this much since Ben died. And before that, he had never cried this much. But maybe when his emotions are running high, no matter if they are positive or negative, he just can’t help but stop holding back and release it all.

Beck was obviously growing uncomfortable. He stayed silent for a while, inhaling deeply, his grip on the wheel relaxing. When he was calm again and Peter was still crying, he tried to mutter something out. "Don't cry. Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell", he said quietly, refusing to look at Peter because he knew Peter didn’t want to be seen right now, and he would respect that wish. Respecting his private space wasn’t possible right now, so not looking at him was the best he could do. Peter sniffed for a while, wiping his tears away and trying to collect himself. He felt embarrassed. But at the same time he had felt brave enough to start crying in front of Beck, which meant he trusted this guy at least a little bit, which was … weird. When the tears had stopped flowing, Peter straightened his back, leaned against the chair comfortably and gazed out of the window.

"My uncle was shot and killed by a small robber who needed an escape vehicle”, he said quietly, immediately catching Beck’s attention. Beck looked at the kid long enough for the car to accidentally turn to the left a little, and to show he was listening, he turned the radio down until the music was only audible if you pressed your ear right against the radio. Peter swallowed strongly, preparing himself to talk without breaking down again.

"But my uncle Ben, he was … he was a good person. He tried to help the robber, telling him he should just go home. But a criminal with a gun doesn’t think about his future. He just wanted the car. And when someone has a gun, they do anything to get what they want", Peter’s voice turned lower and lower the more he spoke. His eyes looked down at his toes, his free hand grabbing onto his knee so hard that his nails almost pierced through his jeans. “So uncle Ben got shot. For just trying to help the wrong guy.”

Beck gulped heavily.

Peter wiped his nose against his sleeve and looked out of the window again. "I don't like guns. I don't like seeing you pointing guns at people. I don't like seeing you making your life worse with every decision you make. I wish you would just stop and think for once.”

"Think about what?" Beck finally spoke up, his voice calm and clear.

"What's right."

Beck took a deep breath and left it at that. He seemed to go into deep thought because for a few awkwardly long minutes it was silent, and Beck was constantly driving too much to the left, then quickly correcting himself and getting back to his side of the road, then letting the car move to the left again. Peter just sat there silently, also breathing deeply because he still felt like he was running out of air for some reason. He tilted his head a little bit out of the window, letting the air brush his hair into a new look, before he decided it was a bit too cold to do that so he closed the window and leaned his head against the glass instead. He was exhausted, and he had been awake only for a few hours.

When the time felt right, Beck slowly moved his right hand to grab onto Peter’s, locking their fingers together. His thumb stroked over his skin, trying to calm him down, and suddenly such a small movement felt more intimate than sex. Beck licked his lips and just held onto his hand for a minute before he found the strength to open his mouth. “I’m sorry I yelled at you”, Beck said quietly, refusing to look back at Peter because if he did, Beck felt like he would never look at the road again. “Everything is just really fucked up in my life.”

Peter stared at him silently, then down at their hands. Then he squeezed harder, not caring if it hurt or if their hands would soon start to sweat. This comforted him. And weirdly speaking, he didn’t want to let go anytime soon. He didn't know anything about Beck's past, but just hearing a small hint of what it was like made him trust him better. And that was enough.

“I’m sorry for throwing away your gun”, Peter said quietly, and to his surprise Beck just chuckled.

“Ah, it wasn’t my gun in the first place. Maybe it’s better like this”, Beck admitted, squeezed Peter’s hand tighter, then let go as he grabbed onto the gear lever. Then his hand rested over it, letting Peter’s arm relax instead of constantly being stretched out to where ever Beck’s hand was.

Peter couldn’t help but stare at the man’s hand, focusing on how large it was compared to his, how … manly it was, while Peter’s hand could almost be mistaken for a woman’s hand. At least in his opinion. He felt weirdly attracted to Beck's hand. It had been warm compared to his hands that were always a little cold. Peter silently looked at Beck again, and the more he looked at his features, the better he felt, the hotter he felt, the more his heart skipped beats. 

He swallowed strongly, so strongly that it almost hurt.

“Beck?”

Peter's voice was hoarse from the yelling and crying, but Beck had been waiting for the kid to say something so he heard him loud and clear.

“Hmm?”

“Can we keep holding hands?”

Beck didn’t answer to him, nor did he move. He just gazed straight ahead with an emotionless look over his face. For a moment Peter thought he had said something wrong and he had made their relationship extremely weird, but before he could open his mouth and claim it was all a joke, Beck had already laced their fingers past each other and squeezed their hands together tightly. Then, he had looked at Peter and smiled, and not the kind of smile that had a mean intention behind it, but a comforting one.

And then it was warm again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling inspired to write lately so this chapter came out sooner than expected! I'm slowly getting out of my big bad depression lol, so let's hope I'll be this energized to write in the future too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting a bit more heated .. Or are they?

The two of them didn’t enter Oregon that day.

After an hour of driving or so, Beck had suddenly panicked and drove out of the road, parking the car behind the trees. He had explained that there was no way they had killed Steve Rogers since they only had pushed him out of the way a little, so that must have meant that he had survived and called the cops after them. And if the cops new this car they were in was stolen, they would be waiting for them. So, Beck’s great plan was to hide in the woods - because who in their right mind would park here - until the next day, when the cops wouldn’t be looking for a specific stolen car so closely. Peter thought Beck was being a bit paranoid, but he wasn’t the one behind the wheel, and if he was honest, he didn’t mind falling asleep in this car. He’d rather sleep than enter Oregon only to find out that the police would be there to ask about their licenses.

To his surprise, another hour passed when an ambulance and a police car drove past them, not noticing the parked car in the woods. And as suspected, another hour later the ambulance and the police car passed them again, most likely heading towards Oregon where they suspected Steve Roger’s car had went. Beck started smirking proudly, saying he had ‘outsmarted the cops’. And Peter had to admit that hiding had been a good plan.

But spending a whole day in a car wasn’t such a good plan in his opinion. For a few hours they just listened to the radio, singing to the songs they knew the lyrics to, then listening to a broadcast and pretending to be guests on the show. Then it was time for a bathroom break, which Peter doesn’t want to talk about. Then, they had locked the car and went for a walk, just to see what was nearby. To their luck they found a lake so small that it would only take a minute to swim from one side to the other. They washed their faces and hair, then their hands. Then they had lifted their shirts up as high as possible - they had taken their free arm out of their shirts and jackets, and lifted those fabrics above their shoulder so most of their torso was exposed -, and had started washing themselves the best they could. Beck had been bold enough to wet his hand and move it down his pants to clean himself from there. Peter put his hand down his boxers only once before feeling embarrassed. He wasn't like Beck - He did mind if someone was watching him shit, piss or wash himself.

When the night finally came, the two of them were too energized because they had both taken a nap earlier, simply to pass the time. Beck had suggested they play poker. Peter had said they didn’t have any cards, and he didn’t even know how to play in the first place. Beck explained the rules, and then said they can play without the cards. But remembering the whole card deck you’re supposed to have in your hands was impossible, especially when Beck would pull out a Pokemon card and claim he won the game. Peter had turned his hand into a pair of scissors and pretended to cut the invisible Pokemon card in half and saying he had won instead. And then they played rock, paper and scissors until their arms grew tired.

They woke up somewhere around 10 AM when the car suddenly felt too hot to sleep in. Both of their necks were aching thanks to sleeping in a bad position, and their handcuffed hands felt so numb that for a moment Peter thought his fingers were going to fall off. After some stretches and weak breakfast that had to be eaten or it would have turned old tomorrow, they felt safe enough to continue their drive. It took them a while to get the car back on the road - Beck bumped the car against a tree and refused to take any criticism on his driving skills -, but soon they were back on the road, heading towards Oregon.

\--

“Park over there. There’s a spot.”

“Peter, if you think I’m gonna fit in there, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Heh. _ ‘Fit in there’ _ . Heh. _ ‘Coming’ _.”

“Your sense of humor belongs to a five-year-old.”

Whenever there was a large shopping mall, there was at least ten parking lots near it. And somehow they all were always full, no matter what time of the day it was. The first free spot they had found was between two cars, and despite the fact Beck parked like a woman, he managed to fit them between them just barely. But then came the problem of getting out of the car itself. It took them longer to slip past the door without it damaging the other car, then close the door, then open another door so they could get their backpacks. Peter’s number one rule was to never leave your stuff anywhere. Especially if people were looking for you. You never knew when you had to run and you couldn’t get back to the car.

They started heading towards the mall through the front doors, both of them already pulling their hoods up to hide their identity. He was sure both of their faces had been on the news by now, and he didn't want to run away from his problems today. Luckily shopping malls were busy, and the other customers didn't really spend their time on staring at other people, so if they were going to be lucky, no one would recognize them. Still, Peter suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

“What if someone sees our handcuffs?” he asked.

Beck looked down at their hands, then pulled his sleeve down as much as possible. “There. I hid my bracelet, you hide yours.”

Peter pulled his sleeve down, too, then stared at Beck. “Great. What about the chain?”

Beck silently looked at the chain hanging between their hands, and without a word he grabbed Peter's hand, their fingers bound to each other. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even smile this time, just pulled Peter closer to him as they headed towards the largest store in the mall.

“This is kinda gay”, Peter commented as he was so focused on looking down at their hands he almost tripped over his own feet.

“You weren’t complaining yesterday”, Beck smirked at him.

“That was a sensitive moment! This is different”, Peter said, then looked around. “We look like a couple.”

Beck rolled his eyes softly. “A perfect disguise, isn’t it?”

Maybe it was. There wasn’t many options to go with when you had a pair of handcuffs to hide. Another disguise Peter could come up with was something too kinky for public eyes, so he sighed and accepted his fate, preparing himself to pretend to be this man’s boyfriend. He just hoped no one would look at them for too long. God, he hoped that Beck wouldn’t start talking like they were dating.

The convenience store they had stepped in was large and sold everything a human could need. Half of the store sold all kinds of foods, snacks and drinks they would check out later, but first they would go through the other half of the store that sold clothes, hygiene products, shoes, electronics, phones, movies and even bikes. Beck was immediately looking around, his head frantically turning from one side to another like he was searching for something specific. Suddenly, he found the right aisle and turned so hard that Peter almost fell down trying to keep up with him, and as they first walked through gardening supplies, Peter realized Beck had been looking for tools. Any kind of tools. Literally any kind of tool that was strong enough to break a chain.

“A handsaw could be really useful right now”, Beck said, grabbed the first package he saw and shook it in front of Peter’s face. It was a handsaw, but it was packaged into a box so tightly that they would need scissors to open it. There were scissors not too far from them, but they were packaged too. For the first time, Peter thought that too much safety did more harm than help.

“Well, a saw wouldn’t be able to cut the chain in the first place”, Peter said. “We would need bolt cutters, or something.”

Something started shining behind Beck’s eyes. “Clever boy”, he said and started looking for bolt cutters. To their luck, all they had to do was to turn around to see a pair of bolt cutters hanging from a wall … also packaged together. And it had at least ten zip ties around it to avoid customers trying to use it. Beck muttered something under his breath and did his best to look for any kind of tool that they could use, even if it would have cardboard stuck to it. Literally anything would be useful right now. Peter managed to find a hammer that was easy to use if you just ripped it off from its weak packaging. They placed their hands down on the counter, Beck took the hammer, and then slammed it down onto the chain.

For a single second the whole store went silent as the bang echoed over the aisles. 

“I believe that’s gonna make too much noise”, Peter whispered to him.

“No. Really?” Beck said in a sarcastic tone and put the hammer down. He then looked around for cameras, and slowly slid the backpack in front of him, one hand already opening the zipper. But Peter stopped him. 

“We’re not stealing the hammer. We’re gonna be nice and buy it”, Peter said, took the hammer to himself, and then looked at its price. And then he said: “Or we’re gonna be nice and just leave it.”

Beck giggled for a straight minute.

They couldn’t find any kind of tool that could help them break out of these cuffs, so they simply gave up on their quest and started walking around the store, going through every aisle, not because they were looking for something they needed, but to spend time mostly. They had all the time in the world now, after all. Peter was very interested in the book section, while Beck was constantly trying to pull them towards the movie section, just to see what kind of movies had been released lately. They even walked around the kid’s toy section, just to fool around, or comment _ ‘Hey I used to have this as a kid’ _ every now and then, or say _ ‘No kid wants to play with this shit’. _Beck had taken out one of those water guns he always wanted as a kid but never had the money for, and he started to pretend to shoot at Peter despite the fact his gun wasn't loaded. Then he pretended to shoot at another customer who happened to walk past them. To play along - and to simply pass the time and keep himself entertained -, Peter grabbed the nearest toy which happened to be a shark and pretended to eat Beck. They both left the toy aisle after some kids, no older than 10, had stopped to stare at them. Sometimes Peter wondered if destiny had handcuffed them together because they both acted like kids sometimes.

Their next stop was the clothing section where they both finally decided to take things more seriously. Peter immediately started looking for socks, underwear and why not pants too, because at least he could change clothes that were worn below his waist. They completely skipped through shirts and jackets because they couldn’t change into those thanks to the handcuffs blocking the way. Peter picked out a pair of jeans that he believed to be the right size, then tons of socks and underwear. Beck followed lazily after Peter, picking socks and boxers of his own size, but only because Peter had made him. He hated shopping for clothes. 

“Shouldn’t you try those on?” Beck pointed at the jeans when Peter was ready to go check out the food.

“I mean, I guess”, Peter shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they fit, though.”

“Better safe than sorry”, Beck said and grabbed Peter by the arm, directing him towards one of the changing rooms, and not one of those rooms that had a proper door you could lock, but those that had a thin curtain to cover up your body. They stepped in together, and Beck closed the curtain, making sure no one from the outside could peek in. 

And then Beck stared at him like he had witnessed Peter murdering someone.

“What?” Peter asked, putting down all the clothes he had on the only bench in the room.

“Try the damn jeans on”, Beck raised his eyebrows, saying _ ‘well duh, what else?’ _with his eyes.

“I will when you turn around.”

“Oh, right.”

Beck turned around, keeping his right hand behind his back, allowing Peter to pull at it as much as he pleased as he undressed himself. And Beck watched him through the mirror he was facing.

He first didn't see much because his own body was right in front of Peter, so he was stuck looking at his own face. Then he saw Peter taking down his pants, and his hair peeked out from one side, his ass on the other. Beck couldn't help but smile like an idiot, and he took a second to look down at the ground and not get too excited. When he looked back up, Peter was putting on the new jeans, struggling and stumbling because he was desperately trying to use only one hand. He almost fell and stepped backwards, his small round bottom hitting the wall. Beck chuckled, then swallowed down his laughter when Peter gave him a glare.

“Wait a minute, you’re looking through the mirror!” he whined.

“I only looked because your ass hit the wall”, Beck tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help but giggle. “Do you need help over there? Ever put pants on before?"

“No, thanks. I got the pants on now.”

Beck took that as a sign and turned around, now having a better look at the young man. The jeans weren’t anything special, just a bit darker than his original jeans, but they fit Peter well, maybe a bit loose around the ankles but otherwise fine. Beck sure as hell knew those jeans did more than justice for Peter's ass - The jeans made his bottom look rounder. Maybe because of that the jeans looked expensive as hell, as jeans usually were. Beck looked around the changing room before looking back at his companion. “We shouldn’t pay for this crap.”

Peter slammed his hand over his face. “They’ll know if we try to steal. They have alarms and everything.”

“No, they have that shit in actual clothing stores. This is just the clothing section in a big market”, Beck said and he grabbed a pair of socks and underwear, going through them to show they didn’t have anything attached to them, no alarms or anything. Then he moved his hands around Peter’s waist, his fingers following the waistband of the jeans, and as he had suspected there was nothing on it, no black alarm that would be taken off at the cash register.

“Look, they don’t have anything on them. No alarms. We can just put these in our backpack and go”, Beck continued. But his hand didn’t leave Peter’s waist.

Peter’s eyes were suddenly glued onto the hand resting by his hip so gently that he couldn’t even really feel it. But it was there, 100%. The longer Peter looked at it, the stronger the hand pressed down, until finally Beck pressed down a thumb and rolled it in a perfect circle. Oh. That was new. “Beck”, Peter said quietly, lifting his eyes back onto the man. Beck suddenly had a strange, serious look in his eyes, and in some situations it would make a person lean in for a heated kiss, but nothing was happening between them. It was just them inside a small changing room looking at each other while Beck's grip onto his hip hardened.

And then, Beck took a strong step closer. Peter took a step back instead, and thanks to the size of the changing room his back already hit the wall. He stared at Beck who lifted his right hand and pressed it against the wall by his side, Peter’s left hand following after his. And then they stared at each other, not saying a word. Peter blinked, and blinked, and blinked again, trying to understand what was happening. Beck seemed to be thinking about making a move, but then not knowing how to take the next step. So all he did was roll his thumb in a small circle again. It made Peter shiver.

"Beck --"

Suddenly the curtain was drawn back and Peter went completely pale as he saw a security guard standing by the door, staring down at them. Peter wanted to just grab his things and run away, but he was completely frozen in fear. And besides, in this situation when he was handcuffed to Beck, he felt like the man wouldn't even let him leave. Beck seemed to be unable to move, too, as he also just stared at the guard, probably extremely confused that he had just barged in.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t you know the rules?” the man in the mustache immediately shouted, looking like he hadn’t had his morning coffee today. Beck gave him a glare. “Don’t you know how to knock?” he said back. The security guard seemed a little embarrassed for violating their privacy, but his strong look didn’t leave his face.

“Only one person is allowed inside these changing rooms, sir”, the guard said determinedly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve caught teenagers fucking in here.”

“Such foul language”, Beck said, pretending to be extremely offended. Peter was extremely embarrassed and had looked away when he had heard the word 'fucking'. They weren't fucking, not even planning it. Although the tension between them had been so high that the whole moment had felt as intimate as sex.

The guard rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “You two need to get your things and get out if you’re not going to be trying on clothes", the guard told them. And when neither Beck or Peter moved because they were both just too shocked from the situation, the guard shouted: "NOW!"

Beck blinked strongly a couple of times to get his act on, and when he was ready, he gave a smirk to the guard and pointed at Peter’s pants. "We will, we will. But he's wearing jeans that don't belong to him, so we’re gonna have to take those off and return them to their rightful place. So can you close the damn curtain? Thanks."

Peter's face turned even whiter than it already was as he watched Beck try to annoy the guard. But to their luck, the guard just stared them down, closed the curtain roughly and then stomped away angrily.

“Since when do malls have security guards walking around?” Beck asked, fixing the curtain a bit to make sure they weren’t going to be seen by any other outsiders. Peter just stared at him for a moment, trying to go back to the events that happened only a minute ago. He had no idea what had happened between them, and judging from the way Beck was avoiding the issue, he probably didn’t want to explain himself. So Peter followed after him and pretended it had never happened in the first place.

“I don’t know, since thieves like you started coming in”, he said in a sarcastic tone as he started to remove his jeans. Once they were off, he ripped off the tag, folded the jeans and pushed them deep down into his backpack.

Beck pretended to be offended by his comment. “That’s not nice. I haven’t stolen anything today, thank you for noticing.”

“Well, we’re stealing now” , Peter said quietly and put their socks and underwears into his backpack, then took his wallet out - because they had to buy food for themselves, and at the cash register he didn’t want to look for his wallet under all these stolen clothes, so it was safer to just carry it in his hand -, and closed his backpack. Then he reached for his own jeans and started to put them on as quickly as possible.

Beck gave him a flirty whistle. “I think I’m a good bad influence on you.”

“Just shut up and let’s go. Hold my hand.”

\--

They had managed to waste hours in that mall after they had bought their food that would keep them fed for a few days. It was Peter’s idea to just keep them entertained by visiting every single shop in the mall. No kidding. Beck hadn’t even bothered to fight, and if he was honest, he would rather walk around and pretend he was shopping rather than sit inside their stolen car with nothing to do. So, just like Peter had planned, they went through every store, every aisle, every cafe and restaurant, just to waste time.

Every single clothing shop was the same - aimed mostly for women who could fit into the tiniest dresses. Every time they stepped in they were greeted by colorful skirts and dresses because the summer was over and every clothing that was made for summer weather was on sale. And every damn time Beck saw a dress, he pointed it at Peter and said how it would look good on him. Peter absolutely hated it.

Some men’s sections actually sold quite decent clothing, and a few times Beck wished his life was normal so he would have the money to buy this shirt he really liked, or at least try on these shoes knowing he would be walking home with them on. But for now, just looking at the clothes was enough for him. He wished he wasn’t handcuffed to this little twink so he could put on a clean shirt and feel like a human again. Peter complained about the same thing when he found a cheap shirt with some science pun in it, and then whined because there was no way for him to put it on. Life was difficult for an outlaw.

Speaking of being clean, after they had went through all the clothing shops, they had went to the bathroom together and spend a good hour there washing themselves. They had taken tissues, wet them under the sink, then ran them over their bodies to get most of the dirt off. And in the progress both of their shirts had gotten a little wet, so they had to hang around by the toilet, waiting for their clothes to get dry again. They realized that if they wanted to wash their shirts, they would simply have to jump into a lake and wash their clothes while they were wearing them. At least they could save time by washing themselves and their shirts at the same time.

When it was becoming afternoon, they had visited every damn store and cafe, only looking around, never buying anything. Taking a seat in their (stolen) car felt like Heaven to their aching feet, and they spend a good moment just sitting in the parking lot, resting, before they decided to continue their drive.

They started driving towards Beaver Creek, Oregon, knowing it was a small little town with not much action going on. Beck claimed he had been in Beaver Creek before as a kid when his grandparents were still alive. He knew that the town had a lot of trees, which indicated it was located near a forest. Forests had become their new hiding place, after all, so they felt safe being near one. Beck also knew where certain stores where and where the railroad was, because based on his story he once walked on the train tracks and almost got run over because he hadn’t realized to move out of the way. Peter wasn’t surprised that the stupidity started already from Beck’s childhood.

When it was the time for little kids to go to bed, Beck parked the car by a little shop and decided it was deserted enough to sleep here. They just had to wake up early if they didn’t want anyone to come knocking on their window. 

Few hours passed until the shop next to them closed its lights and locked its doors, and after that it was awfully quiet except for the few passing cars and the sound of a party being held only a few blocks away. Peter wished he could just leave this man baby in the car and go to that party, maybe make some new friends, get his drink on even though he has childish taste buds, and who knows, get laid. But no, he was stuck with Quentin Beck, a guy who hadn’t said a word since they had parked here. All they had done was listen to the radio and just … sit in the backseat quietly. They had moved their backpacks to the front and moved to sit in the back because there was more room to spread out and everything. At one point Beck had started smoking, leaning out of the window a little so he wouldn’t fill the car up with smoke, and Peter could easily sit in the middle with both of his arms relaxed, no matter how much Beck leaned out of the window. Peter wondered how they were going to sleep, though, because he really wanted to lay down on his back and push Beck onto the floor because who cares about him.

When Beck was finished with his cigarette, he threw the rest of it out and closed the window. Then he took a comfortable seat, tapped his hand against his knee and looked at Peter. “You know, we should have stolen a book or something. Or a pack of cards to play with”, he smiled strongly.

“I thought you were trying to keep your record clean”, Peter said to him. His hand reached for his jeans' pocket to pick out his phone, which he doesn’t even have. He left his phone at home when he ran away, but every now and then he would still act like he still carried it with him. Even if it was fun and relaxing to not be so controlled by social medias, Peter still missed being able to take out his phone when things got boring. Now he had to suffer in silence.

“Well, then _you_ should have stolen something to keep us entertained”, Beck said. Just when his words finished, a song finally started playing on the radio because for the past 15 minutes the radio hosts had been talking to each other about pollution and endangered animals. Which was something Peter did care about and would usually listen, but not now when his own situation was the priority.

“I’m not a thief”, Peter said and started playing with the metal around his wrist.

“Yes you are. You stole a new pair of pants”, Beck reminded him, then reached out to press two fingers against the side of Peter’s knee, and pushed hard enough to move the boy's leg a little. Peter wasn’t wearing his new jeans yet, but he would most likely change into them when he could. These jeans had seen better days.

“I sure did”, Peter chuckled. And then his brain started repeating what had happened in the dressing room, for the fifth time today. It was weird what had happened. Peter still remembered Beck’s hand awkwardly staying on his waist, then his other hand slamming itself against the wall, dragging Peter’s hand with it, trapping him. The scene had only lasted for few seconds, but it all had made Peter feel so vulnerable. Beck had been so close, so huge-looking suddenly, and all Peter wanted to do in that moment was to melt down onto his knees and -- wait, no, what?

What would have happened if the two of them hadn’t been interrupted? What would have Beck done to him? Peter’s head fell down to look at his legs as his imagination went wild. Then he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, trying to not think about things like that.

“Let’s have a drink”, Beck almost ordered as he reached to the front seat, first going through his own backpack before pulling out a bottle of beer, then going through Peter’s bag because he knew he had given Peter a bottle before. He returned to the backseat, placed one bottle between his legs, then turned the other bottle upside down and pressed its cap under the other bottle’s cap until it flew off. Beck then took the bottle he had been warming up between his thighs and offered it to Peter with a wink.

“All of that happened so fast that my brain froze for a moment”, Peter commented, earning some laughter as an answer. “How are you going to open your bottle?”

“Easy”, Beck said. He reached for his jacket’s pocket, took out his lighter, and somehow managed to open the bottle with that. He spilled a little bit on himself but he didn’t care because he was just too proud of himself. “You learn a few tricks when you don’t have a bottle opener.”

“Impressive party trick”, Peter said and took a sip from his drink. It was … bad. He immediately scrunched his nose and tried to get rid of the taste with his tongue, somehow. “This tastes like ass.”

Beck just laughed at him and took a strong sip from his own drink. “That means it’s good then.”

Peter choked up on laughter, said _ ‘eww’ _before laughing a bit more, still trying to force himself to drink. Now he drank a little more and swallowed it down fast enough for the taste to not linger in his mouth. But he could still smell the beer, and it wasn’t to his liking. Beck just continued to smirk at him. “C’mon, Peter. Now is your chance to become an adult. Drink up.”

And so they drank, mostly quietly with the radio singing in the background, but when Peter was halfway done, he was already considered drunk. Well, no one gets drunk that fast but poor Peter was already giggling at everything so he would be counted in. Beck wasn’t anywhere near drunk, but he was laughing too because he was just so amused by Peter and how sensitive he was to alcohol. When Peter’s bottle was finally empty, he was in the middle of telling a story how he had went to one party in his life and it was when he was 15, and how he hadn’t drank anything but had still managed to wake up at the wrong house. Beck couldn’t help but laugh at this kid.

He also couldn’t help but stare. Peter was maybe too bossy and acted like he knew more than anybody else, but he was like a piece of art you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He had the perfect little curls in his hair, the cutest facial features, and a nice body based on what Beck had seen. He had been constantly staring at the boy since they had met. But today in that dressing room, for the first time in his life, did he suddenly have the urge to touch someone of the same gender. 

Exciting new feelings were going through every inch of his body.

“-- And it was so embarrassing, because it wasn’t my bed, and the guy thought I had slept with his girlfriend, which didn’t happen, and he threatened to beat me up and yeah”, Peter explained, getting stuck on words, not knowing how to end a sentence, and then just dropping the story when he felt like it. He giggled and then looked at Beck. He wasn’t drunk, just got very giggly and talkative after a drink. And when he was talkative, he just kept on talking, never closing his mouth. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine. I was very interested in your story”, Beck said, and then Peter was back to laughing like crazy. His cheeks light up into a shade of red which made Beck smile a little wider. Peter had a very, very cute smile because his cheeks turned chubby when he smiled and his eyes automatically closed. Beck hadn't seen Peter smile very much since they had met. Beck's right hand almost automatically reached for Peter, his index finger gently running over the boy’s cheek bone, then quickly pulling away when he remember they were fucking handcuffed and Peter’s hand was moving after his awkwardly.

“Ah, sorry”, Beck mumbled. “I keep forgetting about the handcuffs.”

“How is that even possible?” Peter giggled. Beck wasn’t sure. Maybe he was simply getting used to the idea of having someone follow after his tail constantly. Or maybe he just pretended Peter wasn’t there sometimes. But Beck knew one thing for sure - He almost liked the handcuffs now.

What he liked the most about the handcuffs was that whatever he did with his hands, Peter was following after him. So, just for fun, Beck raised his right hand, then moved it down, then raised it again. Peter’s hand followed right after his own, making them both chuckle a little. Beck put his hand down again, then lifted it high up again, watching how Peter had no choice but to follow after him. Somehow, this was entertaining for him.

“Where ever my hand goes, your hand follows”, Beck said quietly and then started pulling his hand back towards himself, watching as Peter’s limp hand started coming closer to him. Peter didn’t really realize what was going on, but his laughter did quiet down and his eyes focused on the other man. Beck just blinked at him and continued to pull his own hand further back until Peter’s left hand was close to his face, and then with a strong swallow, Beck leaned closer to him and pressed his cheek against Peter’s palm. A small _ ‘oh’ _ escaped past Peter’s lips, but he didn’t move his hand away, not even when Beck moved his hand over his and made Peter press his hand down harder.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked. His other hand had suddenly went limp and he dropped his empty bottle on the ground, a place where Beck had also ditched his drink.

“Nothing”, Beck said quietly before he rubbed his cheek against his palm. Peter’s hand felt a little cold. He kinda liked the chilly touch. “Nothing at all”, he whispered soon after, and then he pressed a kiss against Peter’s palm, all the while looking straight at him. Peter’s face turned completely serious and even the tips of his ears turned a little red, and Beck couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Why are you hitting on me?” Peter asked, his knees starting to press closer to each other. His heart was going crazy again. He swore he had this same feeling in that dressing room - Something was about to happen. And Peter had no idea how to prepare himself for it.

“Because I’m starting to like you. You’re bossy”, Beck chuckled and pressed another kiss against Peter’s palm, almost wanting to purr in the progress. He could feel Peter’s hand twitch ever so gently as a reaction, but he didn’t pull back. Beck took that as a permission to continue.

“Do you like me?” he asked, staring straight into Peter’s eyes.

“What makes you think I like you?” Peter asked, his voice quiet and his eyes unable to look back at Beck for long. He always broke their eye contact after three seconds. Beck took that as a sign of shyness. 

“You’re the one who asked to hold my hand”, Beck reminded him, then placed a kiss over Peter’s thumb, onto the fleshiest part of said finger. Then, he gave another kiss. Then, he pressed his tongue against his thumb and watched Peter squirm. He smiled and slowly lowered Peter’s hand away from his face. “You don’t have to answer my question. I think I already know the answer.”

Peter had never kissed a guy before. He had only kissed twice in his whole life, actually. Once when he wasn’t even in school yet and only met girls in the kindergarten playground, and the second time was when he was playing ‘spin the bottle’ with his classmate at age 14. After that, Peter hadn’t been too lucky with kisses, or dating anyway. He had always been more focused on school and hanging out with his friends, so girls who considered him to be a nerd never paid attention to him. But he never gave up dreaming about kissing people, because deep inside Peter was a small romantic. And now as he watched Beck carefully inch a little closer, his eyes never leaving his, Peter started to feel like he was finally going to have that third kiss. Third time’s the charm, or however the saying goes.

Peter’s body tensed up as Beck rested one of his hands over his thigh, gently rubbing it side to side, but not trying to slide it between Peter’s legs or anything. He kept his hand on a safe zone, a nonsexual place like his hand being there was an introduction of what was coming next. Peter automatically licked his lips as he watched Beck lean a little closer. And as a primary reaction, he leaned back, away from him because he suddenly felt too shy to just kiss the hell out of him. To Peter's luck - or was it bad luck? He wasn’t sure -, he couldn’t lean back too far away before he ran out of room, just like in the changing room. Beck bravely just inched closer, his lips parting open and eyes closing a bit. Peter’s mouth opened a little too, but just when Beck was about to kiss him, he turned his head away. _ ‘What is going on?!’ _he thought, unable to breathe calmly, or to even count his heartbeats because his heart was just beating far too fast. One of his feet was tapping to the ground furiously, moving so fast that it didn’t even manage to hit the ground. 

Peter closed his eyes tightly and started counting to ten. He felt like he was going to melt, or have a panic attack, or cum inside his pants despite not being even hard. Yet. Beck didn’t say a word, nor did he react. He simply had leaned closer until his lips had pressed against Peter’s neck and given him a small kiss, just to show a kiss was nothing to be scared of. He earned a strong whine in return. Beck took a few seconds to just listen to Peter, to check if the young man was whispering _ ‘no’ _or anything, but all he could hear was Peter panting, then holding in his breath. And when Beck kissed his neck again, this time more strongly, he heard Peter gasp for air and start panting again, breathing through his mouth like a dog.

When Beck moved closer to Peter’s ear, he gently took his earlobe between his teeth and nibbled onto it with a smile, feeling Peter freak out under him. And then he heard him say: “No, no, stop it, please.” And Beck pulled back without hesitation.

“I stopped. It’s okay”, Beck said, watching as Peter pressed his hand against his own chest and tried to steady his breathing.

“I’m sorry”, Peter breathed out. “I don’t know about this stuff, I … I don’t know about you?”

Beck lifted an eyebrow at him, confused. “What is there to know about me?”

“How I feel about you”, Peter said quietly, looking at Beck for only a second before looking elsewhere, like he was feeling dizzy every time their eyes met. “I’m sorry. I’m not experienced at all.”

Beck felt bad for smiling in a situation like this, but he couldn’t help himself. So, Peter seemed to be a virgin, or at least that was the picture he was giving. It seemed like he hasn’t been this intimate with anyone, but surely he has kissed someone before. Beck didn't care how perverted he was for thinking like this, but the fact Peter seemed inexperienced was a little hot. Beck looked him up and down, watching how Peter soon blew some air out of his mouth and nervously chuckled. “Listen, I don’t know if I even like guys”, Peter mumbled out, knowing very well that he was half-lying. He had to be at least curious about guys, because he had been looking at Beck for a while, and he had been touching the man’s fingers when he had been sleeping, and long before Peter had ran away from home he had been using his own fingers on himself just to see what it feels like, and he had done it more than once. And he had liked it.

But still, he was unsure if he could do this because Peter had never, ever, done anything with a guy. The most he had done with a guy was a simple platonic hug.

Beck chuckled at him. He was very, very sure Peter liked guys. But now he was sure that Peter was also stuck in the closet. “You could always try something new”, he said quietly, and finally, Peter looked back at him and held onto the eye contact. Beck waited for a few seconds for an answer, for a sign, anything, but Peter just sat there staring at him. So, Beck decided to try once more, just to see if he would get anything out of this kid.

He leaned in again, this time noticing Peter wasn’t tilting his head away but keeping himself completely still. Instead of going straight for the kiss, Beck moved to press his mouth back against his neck, now giving him a proper kiss that could possibly even leave a mark, depending how sensitive Peter’s skin was. Then, Beck started trailing kisses up towards his jawline, then over to his cheek, then close to his lips. Peter seemed to be out of breath again. But he wasn’t running away. Beck smiled gently, moved his free hand to hold Peter’s chin up, and just like that Peter’s lips parted. And Beck leaned closer.

“Beck”, Peter whispered out just when their lips brushed together.

“Yeah?” Beck asked, keeping their faces close, waiting for a moment to properly kiss this cute ass boy, planning to press their mouths together when Peter was done saying what he needed to say.

Peter swallowed.

And then he pulled back.

“I gotta piss.”

Beck had never been turned off so fast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this chapter ended up being long, but I didn't know how to cut it into two chapter so bear with me! Also, thank you so much for your sweet comments <3

Quentin Beck woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the window, right on the spot where he had been leaning his head against. He first refused to open his eyes and pretended to be dead, but the knocking only got heavier and stronger, strong enough to make the glass shake. With a deep grunt, Beck lifted his head up and looked at the window only to see a young woman with short wavy hair that had been dyed into a vibrant shade of red staring at him. She had a mean look on her face - and her leather jacket didn’t make her look any nicer -, so Beck decided to not create any trouble with her and opened the car window.

“Morning”, Beck greeted her and smiled, trying to use his good looks and his charm for his advantages. But the woman didn’t seem to care.

“Morning? It’s 3 PM, mister”, she said, a small hint of a Russian accent hidden in her voice. “I see you and your friend had a long night.”

Beck released a confused little _ ‘hm?’ _before remembering where he was and with who. He looked to his right only to find Peter’s head pressed against his shoulder and their hands almost locked together. Ah. Last night both of them had trouble falling asleep after that awkward moment. But somehow during the night they had ended cuddled up together. He found it quite sweet. He wished he could have woken up on his own and taken his time to just look at Peter dozing off. No such luck today. 

“Yeah. We were supposed to drive home but … uh, well, we both drank a bottle, and I guess we dozed off”, Beck tried to explain, turning his gaze back over to the window. “I guess we should get moving.”

“Or you can stay. Not like I care”, the woman said, giving the smallest hint of a smile. “I just wanted to check you were alive. You look like a mess.”

Beck huffed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Have a fun day.”

The lady then turned around on her heels and walked over to a motorcycle that was painted as black as her clothes. She placed her helmet over her head, gave one look at the car, and gave Beck a thumbs up before she drove off. And just like that this mystery lady was gone out of his life as fast as she had entered it.

Beck looked over at Peter who was still heavily asleep, drooling a little bit onto his jacket, still managing to look cute while doing it. He wondered if Peter remembered everything that had happened last night, or if one bottle of cheap beer had really been enough to make him hangover. Beck hoped that the kid remembered every single second like he did. 

Instead of just staring down at Peter like a creep, he grabbed the kid by his chin and lifted his head up. “Hey. Wake up”, he said to him, shaking the boy’s head strongly. Peter woke up almost immediately, cranky as hell. “Where are we?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, then his whole face. Peter looked exhausted.

“In Beaver Creek, dummy. We haven’t moved an inch singe last night”, Beck reminded him. And then his eyes were suddenly glued onto Peter’s skinny little neck and onto that spot where he had kissed last night, marked with a small red spot. Ah, so Peter did bruise easily. He immediately wanted to kiss that spot again, to make the hickey stronger until it would start turning a shade of blue. But for now, all he did was smile.

“Ah, shit”, Peter said, looking around with sleepy eyes. He refused to look at Beck because if he would, he would remind himself of last night’s events, and right now all Peter wanted was to wash his face and wake up properly. He didn't have time to think about his stupidity of last night. _'I need to piss'. _Was that the only thing he could come up with? Maybe Peter should have just said he was feeling too shy for a kiss, or just go for it. But for now, he just avoided the subject and pretended it never happened. “I guess we should get going, then", Peter said, trying to get the two of them out of the awkward silence.

“I guess we should.”

By now they had gotten used to working together with the handcuffs, and in under a minute they had thrown their backpacks to the backseat and moved to the front themselves. Beck twisted the key and started up the car, listening the engine roar like a hungry bear before turning quiet. He started the car up again. And again. And the fourth time he tried to turn the car on, nothing happened at all.

“Beck, there’s no gas”, Peter pointed out.

“I’m not blind”, he said, then banged his hands against the car wheel.

“We should buy some gas, Beck.”

Beck rolled his eyes before giving a strong glare at his companion. “Do _ you _have money for gas? Because I don’t.”

Peter didn’t. Or, well, he did, but wasting his money on gas would mean he wouldn’t have any money to buy food. So, he didn’t have any gas money. And because of that, Beck took a minute to just shout and swear and slam his hands down on everything possible - the wheel, his own legs, the radio, the door handle. Peter also joined in, but instead of getting his rage out he pretended to be a drummer, which only annoyed Beck more.

This day could have started off better.

  
  


\--

  
  


Their plan was to walk around the neighborhood and find someone who looked trustworthy enough to help them out. Someone in this town had to own a pair of bolt cutters and who was nice enough to help them and not call the cops. Beck was so pissed off about having to leave ‘their’ car behind that he was ready to go knock on every damn door and demand help from them, whoever they were, an old lady or just a little kid. Peter had to use all his strength to hold the man back and calm him down. And when Beck did calm down, he went on full autopilot and just walked like a zombie as they tried to figure out what to do next.

The neighborhood they were in was quiet, almost deserted like an apocalypse was happening. Each house looked the same - every building they passed had two floors and a garage, colorful but not too bright walls, a front door with a sign of their last name on it, and a mailbox that had been standing there for generations. Every yard was well kept - The grass had been cut, the bushes had been trimmed, and the flowers had been watered. It was obvious that this neighborhood was rich, and most likely white.

When Beck seemed to come back to reality after his tantrum, he first complained about them having to leave the car behind, because he had really started to like that car. Peter didn’t bother answering him, because what was he supposed to say? He didn’t have the money for gas, and they no longer had the gun that would have been extremely helpful if they had wanted to steal gas, or steal another car with gas in it, or steal money to buy gas. But Peter really didn’t want to steal just because he could, but only because it was necessary. So he didn’t state any kind of opinion on the case and continued walking, deep in his thoughts just like Beck.

“Why didn’t you kiss me last night?”

Beck’s question had come so suddenly that when Peter progressed those words and understood what they meant, he had taken a strong step away from the man, a pale look taking over his face. “What?” was the only thing Peter managed to mumble out.

“Don’t play dumb. You weren’t drunk enough to forget about it”, Beck said, and with one tug with his arm, he pulled Peter back towards him so there wasn’t an awkwardly large gap between their bodies.

Peter opened his mouth but took a few seconds to think of what to say. “I had to pee”, he used as an excuse. But the truth was that he didn’t kiss Beck because he had just felt like the moment wasn’t right. Mostly because he had to piss, but there were other things too. Peter was still trying to figure out if he really liked Beck, or if he was just desperate to be touched by him simply because they were handcuffed together. After all, he still knew very little of Beck. And so far Beck was a perfect example of an asshole. But maybe there was more to him.

“Would you have preferred to see me wet myself?” he teased, watching as Beck rolled his eyes strongly.

“No, but … You know, just forget it.” Beck buried his free hand deep into his pocket while his right turned into a tight, annoyed fist. Peter felt bad for avoiding the subject. But he felt like he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

Their objective to find someone with bolt cutters suddenly ended when a man stepped out of his house with a full trash bag in his hand, yelling back to somebody who was inside the house. Both Peter and Beck froze on their spot for whatever reason and watched this man take his trash bin to the edge of the road - as today would be the day the trash would be collected -, then open the lid and try to throw the unnaturally large bag of trash inside it. But as he threw the bag over his shoulder, the whole bin suddenly fell down against the ground, some trash spreading over the street. And then the man cursed.

Beck was the kind of guy who would laugh when something unfortunate happened to someone else. And Peter was the complete opposite - He would go and offer his helping hand, just like he did now, no matter how much Beck was telling him to ‘leave it’. Peter didn’t say anything as he knelt down and started collecting trash, throwing it back inside the trash bin.

“Oh, uh, thanks”, the man said, trying to clear out his trash as quickly as possible. His skin was dark, his hair was extremely short, and he was wearing a red shirt that seemed to have a few stains on it. He looked like a normal homeowner, nothing else.

Soon, Peter helped him to put the trash bin back up, and while Beck held the lid open - for some reason, he didn’t feel happy helping -, Peter and the man both grabbed onto the trash bag, threw it inside, then pressed it down as much as possible before finally managing to close the lid completely. The man huffed out some air and wiped off some sweat from his forehead.

“Thanks for the help again. Who would have thought taking out the trash would be such a task?” the man immediately joked.

“No problem, mister …”, Peter turned to look over his shoulder and read his last name from the mailbox, “... mister Wilson.”

“Just call me Sam”, he insisted. Sam then looked at the two of them for a moment before he asked: “So, what’s the story behind the handcuffs?”

At this point hiding the handcuffs had been completely forgotten, because both Beck and Peter had learned to live with them like they were born this way. They looked down at the handcuffs, neither of them knowing what kind of a story would be logical to end up in a situation like this.

Neither of them answered, so thick silence grew between the three men that seemed to last for hours, years, forever. Sam just looked at them, then at the handcuffs, then at them again. And then he asked to come inside with him.

\--

  
  


“I don’t think I got your names. But I don’t need to. You’re Peter Parker, the kid who ran away from home weeks ago. And you’re Quentin Beck. Both of your faces have been on the news every day since they found a cop’s body in the woods.”

Peter felt like he was soon going to burst into tears. This ordinary kitchen with kid’s drawings on the fridge, cookies on the counter and a warm cup of coffee in front of him didn’t feel safe, but like a prison. There was a milk carton in the middle of the table with Peter’s face on it. There were three exits, where one lead them to the front door, one to the living room, and one to a dark hallway. But all exits were sealed shut when Sam was sitting on the table with them, staring at them like he was a real police officer interrogating them. For some reason, Peter felt like Sam Wilson was secretly a cop who was hiding a gun under the table.

“She’s dead?” Peter said quietly. He had hoped, prayed to God, that Denice had somehow survived the crash and gotten back to her family. But by the amount of blood she had been covered in, it didn’t come as a big surprise that she was dead.

Sam quietly nodded. “I understood you two were in the car with her?”

Beck constantly kept looking at Peter, begging him to keep quiet with his eyes. But Peter felt like he was having an emotional breakdown, so he nodded, because he felt like staying quiet wouldn’t help them at all.

“What happened was an accident”, Beck jumped into the conversation. “A deer jumped in front of the car and we crashed. We didn’t … didn’t …”

“I’m not saying you killed her”, Sam tried to calm him down. He circled his finger over the rim of his cup before grabbing onto it to take a sip. “But you could have helped her.”

“We tried, but … she was gone already”, Peter said, swallowing down a sob. He was lying again. They could have done more for her. They could have checked if there was a pulse. But they didn’t. The fact that they had just left here there made Peter's eyes tear up more. “We didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

Peter wiped his eyes dry from the tears, constantly looking down at his legs as he tried to keep himself relaxed. Beck moved his right hand closer and grabbed his hand, his thumb stroking the back of Peter’s hand as a way to try and relax him. Peter didn't even have the strength to hold onto Beck's hand.

Sam sighed deeply. “Listen, I need to understand the situation with you two before I do anything. I want to help, but first I need to know who I'm helping”, he said. “Do I make myself clear?”

He did. He made himself very clear, because Peter opened his mouth and started telling his side of the story, simply in hopes that when Sam heard how bad things had been for them, maybe he would let them just walk away. And Peter told Sam more than he had told Beck. He told him about how his uncle Ben was shot, and how he ran away from home because he didn’t want to move to another city - how he wanted to make his own choices for once. He explained why they had been handcuffed together, how they couldn’t find the key or any help, and how they had been living like this for the past few days. And, for the first time after Beck had practically forced them to head towards Humboldt County, Peter said how all he wanted to do was to just go back home and live his life again. And then he cried so hard that he felt like he was going to choke.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, progressing the story he had just heard, before he gave a look at Beck. “So what’s your story, then?”

Beck had been quiet about his situation with Peter, and there was no way in Hell he was going to tell his story to anybody else but him. So he simply looked at Sam and said: “I just wanna make sure the kid gets home safe. That’s all that matters. I don’t care what happens to me after that.”

Peter’s crying quieted down after hearing that.

“Alright then”, Sam said. He took another sip from his coffee like the drink made him make better choices, then licked his lips. “You two can stay.”

Peter wiped his tears away once again. “What?”

Sam's fingers trembled a little. “I was once in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. I spend over three years away from my family because of some asshole who put the blame on me”, Sam explained his decision, his gaze falling down to his own half-empty cup. “I don’t want the same happen to anybody else. So, I’ll help you.”

“Help us how?” Beck asked, taking his first sip from his coffee and swallowing down almost half of it. Peter hadn’t even touched his drink, and had been too polite to deny it earlier, so he was just playing with his mug, watching how his coffee almost spilled over the rim.

“First, we’re gonna try and get those handcuffs off”, Sam said, standing up from his seat. “Then, you two can stay the night here, but only one night. We can figure out tomorrow how you’re gonna get to your destination.”

Both Peter and Beck stood up at the same time. “Thank you so much”, Peter said, this time trying to smile to stop himself for crying. He could still feeling tears coming out of his eyes because he felt sensitive after telling about his situation, and after the fear of getting caught by the cops, again.

“Thank me later. If you two act suspicious in any possible way, I'm calling the cops. Now, let’s go see if any of my tools could help.”

  
  


\--

  
  


None of his tools could help.

Sam was the kind of guy who had more tools than he really needed, so they had tried everything. Simply forcing the chain to break didn’t help, nor did picking the lock. Despite the fact Sam had enough tools to share with the whole neighborhood, none of them were made for breaking handcuffs so once again they were so close to being free, yet so far. During the progress of trying to break the chain with a hammer - just like Beck had tried to use the hammer at the store earlier -, Sam had broken into sweat and was now taking his well deserved break.

“You don’t happen to have, I don’t know, bolt cutters around?” Beck asked as he looked around almost too comfortably, while Peter was too polite and refused to touch anything unless he had a permission to do so.

“You watch your attitude or I’ll change my mind about helping you”, was the only thing Sam had to say to make his guests behave. He rubbed his chin for a long while, trying to remember if he had bolt cutters, or if anybody else had bolt cutters, or how much he’d have to pay for bolt cutters if he simply went to the store to get them. 

Then, he remembered. “My neighbor Banner has a pair of bolt cutters, I’m sure. He once had to cut down a lock from a bridge.”

“A lock? From a bridge?” Beck repeated after him.

“Yeah, you know one of those ‘love locks’. You write your and your lover's name on a padlock, and then lock it on the bridge and toss the key away. It’s meant to symbolize love that lasts for eternity, or, whatever. The hell do I know. My wife left me”, Sam shrugged.

“Oh.”

Peter finally decided to speak up after watching from behind the scenes. “So, can we go and borrow the bolt cutters?” he asked.

“Not today. Banner isn’t home, and I don’t know where his spare key is”, Sam complained. “But he’s a friend of mine, and I know tomorrow he will be free from work. I think he comes home during the night or something. We’ll get back to it in the morning.”

Beck sighed, but forced a smile on his face anyway. “Well, one more night with these cuffs won’t be so bad. We can wait.”

As they started heading back inside, Peter felt the sudden urge to thank Sam for what he has done for them. After all, they were two very suspicious strangers, and Sam still wished to help them and even allowed them to stay in his home for the night. Peter couldn’t let such hospitality go in vain, and he felt like he had to do something in return. So first he started by thanking Sam for all his help, before he said: “Is there anything, anything at all, we can do for you in return?”

Sam seemed to have an idea already because he chuckled and grinned at himself. “You can help my kids with homework.”

“Your what?” Beck jumped a little in fear.

  
  


When two young kids were called downstairs and introduced as William and Sarah, Beck started acting odd. His body tensed up, he went awfully quiet, and he constantly kept his eyes on the kids. It seemed like he was almost afraid of them, or simply had never been this close to a child before. Peter didn’t have any experience with kids, either, because he never had to babysit anyone, not even for money. But he knew how to be nice, and he knew how to pretend to be interested in something he wasn’t, so he wasn't as awkward as Beck.

Beck and Peter seated themselves back by the kitchen table with the kids sitting on the opposite side to them, and Sam took a seat in the living room, watching a recorded football game and every now and then looking at them to check everything was alright. It was now obvious that all Sam wanted was a little time for himself, since he had previously mentioned being a single father. 

William was in third grade, while Sarah was in second. Both of them had homework from multiple different subjects, and despite the fact Beck was the oldest one of them, he felt like the dumbest because he didn’t remember studying any of this in his school days. To his luck, Peter was a smart kid, and for him the answers were as clear as the day, but he did struggle helping the kids figure the answer out themselves. It took them almost two hours to finish the homework - Peter was slow at explaining how to figure out the answer, Beck took his sweet time trying to read ahead to the next question, and both of them had to avoid the curious questions about their handcuffs. When the books were finally closed, both Beck and Peter were so exhausted they wanted to fall asleep.

But then it was their time to play with the kids while Sam cooked them food. “I’m making you free food, so you better get your ass upstairs and play dollhouse with them”, Sam had ordered. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like a stranger offering a helping hand, but a lifelong friend who was just spending time with them. Despite Beck’s pleads, they headed upstairs over to Sarah’s room to keep her company. William didn’t need company because he had his video games to play.

An hour went by fast when you were playing. Peter wasn’t that much into the game they were playing - Well it wasn’t really a game, more like a roleplay with Barbie dolls and a dinosaur. He watched how Beck suddenly melted away from his quiet shell and took the dinosaur, pretending to roar. And he was so good at making dinosaur sounds that Sarah couldn’t stop giggling. Beck made the dinosaur fly, roll on the ground, and then die when Sarah made her doll kick it in the face. And for some reason that was the thing that made Peter realize he really did like Beck, because he knew that deep down inside Quentin Beck was a good man stuck in a bad situation. Whatever had happened to Beck had changed him and made him do bad choices, but Peter was also a good kid before he had ran away. He wasn’t perfect either. And now he felt like he was seeing the real side of Beck, not the mean side he constantly tried to keep as a mask.

Who would have thought that a guy like Quentin Beck would look attractive when he is playing with a dinosaur?

\--

Once the dinner was served and eaten, it was starting to get late and the kids had to go to bed soon because tomorrow was another school day. Beck and Peter were made to do the dishes despite wearing handcuffs - that’s the price you pay when you get a free hotel to stay in -, and then they cleaned the table from breadcrumbs and from other dirt there was. After that, Beck felt like he had done enough working for today, and he prayed to God that Sam wouldn't make them clean his whole house while they were at it.

“Hey, the kids have went to bed now so keep it quiet”, Sam said as he walked downstairs.

“Okay”, they said back in unison.

“You can take a shower if you want”, Sam then told them, pointing at the stairs. “Or, wait, is it possible when you two are … ?”

Peter chuckled. “I mean, we can’t really take our shirts off, that’s why we smell --”

“I have noticed.”

“-- But we could still wash our places real fast”, Beck finished the sentence for him, almost jumping up and down because he really, really wanted to wash himself more properly. It had been a while since he has used actual soap.

Sam shook his head with a smile. “I’ll get you two towels. While you’re cleaning and all, I’ll find you a place to sleep in.”

At this point Peter felt sure that Sam was a fallen angel that only came down from the Heavens to guide them. Beck, on the other hand, believed Sam has done something horrible in his past and this was his own way of getting redemption. Either way, both of them were grateful from the help he was offering.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


After bringing their backpacks into the bathroom so they could have access to clean underwear immediately, they locked the bathroom door and looked at each other. And Peter realized that before they had only washed themselves by a sink or a river. This time, they had a proper shower. That meant they would be naked, expect from their shirts, those would only be pulled up as high as possible. 

He would see Beck naked for the first time.

The two of them had seen too much of each other at this point, so there was no need to feel shy. But when they were standing in the bathroom, the door locked behind them and their eyes glued onto each other, making the first move of undressing felt like a risk. No, it felt _ intimate. _It didn't feel like they were just going to wash themselves. It felt like they were going to have sex.

Beck didn’t say anything when he made the first move and started to undress himself. He first pulled his hand out of the sleeves of his jacket and shirt, then pulled his head out of the shirt. Then Beck did his best to wrap his jacket and shirt around his handcuff so his clothes wouldn’t be dragging on the floor and would be out of the way as much as possible. Now he had a weird ball of fabric around his wrist, but that was the only way to have his torso naked. After that he stopped and looked at Peter who just mumbled _ “what?” _to him because he couldn’t understand the look he was given.

“You planning to shower with your clothes on?” Beck asked him. Peter didn’t feel like fighting about it, nor did he feel like explaining why he felt shy about being naked around him when he had used the toilet in front of him before. So without a word Peter also pulled his hand off his sleeves and rolled his shirt and jacket around his chained arm the best he could, hoping it wouldn’t come undone and touch the wet floor.

He was much skinnier compared to Beck. Beck looked manly, had hair growing over his chest and a bit on his stomach, had muscles but not too many of them because he looked nicely soft in his stomach area. Beck's body looked good. Peter, on the other hand, was skinny. Not skinny enough to show off his bones, but not muscle enough to be considered fit or strong. He didn’t see anything interesting in his own body when there was Beck’s body to compare to.

Then Beck slowly knelt down, Peter following after him, and both of them silently started taking off their shoes, then their socks, only using one hand. Peter’s left hand and Beck’s right hand always watched from the sides, tied together by metal, stuck to each other. When their feet were bare, they both stood back up again. Peter’s gaze was on the floor, and for some reason he still compared everything about them together. He felt jealous about Beck’s feet. His feet belonged to a man, while Peter’s feet could be considered almost feminine. Was it weird to be this fixated over your feet?

It became awfully quiet after that, and Peter was ready to call it quits and beg them to just put their clothes back on and not wash themselves today. They can wait until tomorrow morning when they would be free from each other. But Beck wasn’t as bothered as him, wasn’t as shy as him. Beck moved his hand over to his belt and Peter already felt like he was going to fucking panic. 

“Beck”, Peter quickly panted out.

“Hm?” Beck hummed, looking back into his eyes. Peter wasn’t sure what he even wanted to say, or what he wanted to do. He just stared back at him, feeling pale, feeling dizzy, breathing through his mouth because otherwise he felt like he was going to run out of air. Beck seemed to understand what he was worried about. At this point, he had learned to read Peter's emotions from his expressions. “I won’t look.”

Beck’s hand moved back over to his belt, his fingers playing with the buckle until he got it open. Then his fingers opened the button, then the fly, and then Beck slowly moved both of his hands to the waistbands of his jeans and underwear and with one strong tug he pulled his pants down, stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. And then he was naked.

Peter couldn’t look at him. His eyes were focusing on the shower head, the handle, all the shampoos and soaps placed neatly on a small shelf in the corner, the drain and the curtain. He wished he had the courage to take a peek. But he didn’t want to be weird, so he kept his eyes away. Not like he could handle seeing somebody else's dick right now, especially Beck's. He refused to look at him at all.

… Until Peter was forced to look at the man because his hands were suddenly at _his_ belt, unbuckling it for him.

“B-Beck.” The man’s name was suddenly the only thing Peter could get out of his mouth. No other words seemed to make sense anymore. Only ‘Beck’. Just 'Beck'.

“It’s alright”, Beck said quietly, and that seemed to be the only thing he had to say. He opened the fly of his jeans, then moved his fingers under the waistband of his jeans and boxers. Peter’s eyes were watching him all the time, his breathing growing heavier, his knees starting to clack together. 

And then Beck closed his eyes and knelt down as he undressed Peter. He kept his eyes closed as he guided Peter to lift his leg up and pull it out of his pants, then put the leg back down and do the same with his other leg. When his pants had been pushed to the side, Beck slowly stood up and then opened his eyes, meeting them with Peter’s. And he smiled, saying _ ‘told you I wouldn’t look’ _with his eyes, and suddenly Peter felt safe around him. Quentin Beck no longer was the guy pointing his gun around too much. Now he seemed like the guy who would take out his gun only if it was to protect Peter.

Neither of them said anything as they walked to stand under the shower head and turned the water on. It felt cold first. Both of them kept their chained hands out of the shower, while their properly naked side stayed under the shower. Their shirts still managed to get a little wet, but who cared at this point, it would dry.

The only audible sound was the water running as they both used their free hand to clean themselves. Peter wet his hand, moved it under his armpit, then wet it again, then moved it under his other armpit before his hand dropped down from his torso between his legs. Then he tilted his head to the right and let his hair get wet, rubbing his hand down against his scalp. He didn’t dare to use any of the shampoos because they weren’t theirs, and he didn’t want to use too much of it accidentally. Beck was cleaning himself fast, looking like he just wanted to get out of this situation and put his clothes back on.

But when Peter had washed himself, at least clean enough for his own taste, his left hand automatically moved closer to Beck’s and he grabbed onto it gently, catching the man’s attention. Beck just looked at him quietly, no obvious emotion behind his eyes. No lust, no confusion, no anger, no nothing. Behind his eyes laid an emotion Peter hadn’t seen before. Peter kept his eyes on him as he held onto his hand harder. Beck held onto him back. Peter tried to say something, but his mouth was just left open. He wanted to explain himself and why he was so unsure about kissing him, but how he felt like he was ready for it now. He wanted to tell Beck that despite their different views on the world, and despite the fact their trip together has been pure hell, he has also enjoyed it. He wanted to tell Beck he really liked him. But all he could do was just look at Beck, and Peter felt so helpless that he was sure he might cry again like a fool.

And then without a word nor a warning, Beck’s left hand moved to cup his cheek and he pulled Peter into a kiss. This time Peter didn’t pull back. He let it happen. And he didn’t care that the rain falling on their head made the kiss wet, or how their shirts were now hanging from their hands and touching the wet floor. He only cared about Beck. The second the man's lips touched his, Peter no longer felt helpless.

His beard felt a little ticklish against his chin. The shower made the kiss wet and sloppy, and at some point it felt like the water was trying to drown them, but neither of them seemed to care. Peter’s hand landed over his chest, squeezing onto his tit gently. The gesture made Beck smile into the kiss, then dive deeper. And Peter opened his mouth wider and allowed him in. And only a few seconds later Beck pressed their bodies closer, nothing left untouched. Peter could feel himself heat up. He could _feel _Beck.

Their kiss deepened, their tongues met in a shy touch, their groins were touching each other. Yet, none of it felt sexual. To Peter at least, this kiss felt like so much more. ‘Intimate’ was the only word he could describe it as. Intimate but not sexy. Loving, almost. The more he tasted Beck’s lips, the more he wanted to lose his breath and never let go. And judging from the way Beck let his hand slowly travel down to Peter’s neck, to his shoulder, down his arm over to his waist, Peter knew that Beck was into this as much as he was. And that meant the world to him.

But all things must come to an end. A knock on the door startled them as Sam asked how they were doing. They quickly pulled away from each other, shut the shower and stepped out, yelling through the door that ‘they were fine’, and that ‘the handcuffs made washing difficult, that's why it was taking so long’. Sam only gave them an awkward laugh before leaving them alone.

Beck and Peter stared at each other as they grabbed a pair of towels that had been left for them. And then they both laughed quietly, not saying a single word to each other, both of them acting like a pair of teenagers. In this moment, both of them felt like they didn’t have to ask each other _ “What are we?” _because they had some kind of an idea about their relationship. Everything had just started, they could figure out the rest later.

As they dried themselves and put their clothes back on, Peter hoped that what had happened inside this bathroom wouldn’t stay there, but would follow them to the bedroom.

  
  
  
  


—

  
  
  
  


“Why can’t you pull the mattress down from the attic? Aren’t there spiders up there?”

“I can't, and I won't, pull it down because it was already difficult to get it up there. Look, it’s either the attic with a nice big mattress, or then the couch that isn’t big enough for the two of you.”

Beck didn’t like the idea of sleeping in the attic, but in the end who cared about what he thought, because he had a habit of complaining about every single thing anyway. Peter thanked Sam for his troubles and promised sleeping in the attic was just perfect. Simply climbing up there was the only problem they faced, but they managed to make it work when they moved up there slowly and Sam came after them with their backpacks. They were told to be quiet and that they weren’t allowed to drink or smoke up there, only sleep. Both Beck and Peter promised to be quiet, and then the stairs were pulled up and the door was closed.

Peter never had an attic before, and he has never been in one. But it was interesting to see the roof of the house and see where this family stored their belongings that didn’t have room elsewhere - old childhood toys, photo albums that didn’t fit in the shelf, furniture that had been torn into pieces, boxes full of things that no one wanted but were still kept around, just in case. There was only a small light bulb to bring light to them and a single window shaped like a circle. The floor was covered in dust and in one corner there was a spider web, but otherwise their sleeping place had been cleaned up.

A single large mattress laid on the floor. It had a light green sheet over it, two pillows with princesses on them and a blanket that looked just barely thick enough to keep them warm for the night. It wasn't much, but it was better than the backseat of a car or a sleeping bag in the woods. Peter actually felt excited, more excited than he has ever been in his life. This felt like a sleepover. He walked over to the mattress, sat down and placed his backpack near him on the floor where he could get a snack if he suddenly got hungry. Beck followed after him, doing the exact same thing as Peter did. And then they both sat there, looking at each other for a few seconds before starting to smile.

“Hi”, Peter said.

“Hi”, Beck chuckled at him. “That was really nice.”

They hadn’t talked this much after taking that shower. Peter immediately smiled wider and pulled his knees against his chest, dropping his head down. He couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. He constantly wanted more of it, but he didn't know how to ask. “Shut up”, he mumbled.

“No, I don’t think I will. I’ll let the whole world know you finally let me kiss you”, Beck said, inching to sit closer to him. His right hand reached for Peter’s left hand, squeezing onto it.

“How many times did you try to kiss me?” Peter asked, his forehead still pressed tightly against his knees.

“That was the third time”, Beck said. “Now stop hiding. I wanna see you.”

First Peter kept hiding his face. But oh, who can resist such a plead, especially when Beck started pressing kisses against his temple and his head and then he buried his face against Peter’s hair that was still a little moist. When he lifted his head up, Beck immediately aimed for a kiss, but his lips accidentally touched his nose and giggles were shared. Beck then gave up trying and took a break, pressing their foreheads together. “There’s my handsome fella”, he smiled.

For some reason this felt weird. It felt good, amazing, perfect, but it was also weird to see Beck like this. Since the very first day they had met, Beck had been so ... dangerous. He had this shell around him that no one was allowed to break. He was a mean, bad guy who only cared about himself. And now after one very naked kiss, he was as cuddly as a teddy bear.

Peter wondered what was hidden beneath his mask. He wondered if there was more to know about him.

“Why are you on the run, Beck?” Peter asked, keeping his eyes closed. Beck opened his eyes for a moment, but decided to close them again and keep his forehead pressed against Peter’s forehead. 

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he said.

Peter licked his bottom lip. “Why don’t you have a home to go back to?” he asked because he was simply too curious to not know. He still didn’t know why Beck was trying to rob that store, or why he was on the run in the first place. He didn’t know anything about Beck’s past, expect his job and how he had lost it. Peter still didn’t know who Quentin Beck truly was.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, Beck said again, this time quieter.

“Okay”, said Peter. He wasn’t the kind of guy to pressure someone to talk about something they weren’t ready to talk about. But Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. “I just want to get to know you, Beck.”

Beck smiled and rubbed his forehead against his. “Then ask anything else but that.” 

But before Peter could even think about what he wanted to ask, Beck had leaned in and pressed their mouths together. This time Peter could properly taste him. His lips were surprisingly soft, but tasteless. But if Peter had to describe how he tasted like, he would probably try to link alcohol and cigarettes to it somehow. Did it really matter what he tasted like? Kissing him was already addicting. Kissing him was already fun. Peter could do it all day.

“What’s your favorite color?” Peter managed to ask between the little sweet kisses they were sharing. Every time their lips met, he couldn’t help but smile. He always thought that Beck would kiss him roughly with passion and heat, but this was extremely gentle, maybe even loving. It almost felt silly. It felt like foreplay to a bigger making out session.

“Green”, was Beck’s answer which somehow surprised Peter. Nobody’s favorite color was ever green. “And yours?”

“Red”, Peter said. Their colors were complementary colors when put together. Peter took that as a sign of destiny. He had taken the handcuffs as a sign of destiny. The world had wanted the two of them to be together. “Favorite animal?”

“Jeez, I don’t know”, Beck laughed, then kissed him again, now deeper, more hungrier. He pulled back when he had finally found his answer. “Chameleon. Always wanted one as a kid, but couldn’t find one anywhere.”

Peter couldn’t stop smiling. Everything felt so good suddenly. No more was he pissed off that he was handcuffed to someone, nor was he constantly scared of being caught. Right now, he didn’t feel afraid to kiss a man anymore. In this moment, Peter felt safe, a feeling he hadn’t felt since uncle Ben had passed away. He felt like he was slowly finding himself, trusting himself, loving himself enough to love others again instead of pushing them away.

“I always wanted a spider. Not the ones in your garden, the … the big and hairy ones. But my aunt hates spiders so I never got one”, Peter told him. He always had found spiders fascinating. After all, he had been the one to take the spiders out of their home whenever aunt May found one. Beck made a quiet _ ‘ew’ _sound before kissing Peter again.

This time the kiss wasn’t small. This time Beck kissed him so hard that Peter couldn’t force out another question. He didn’t mind being silenced, really. Now that he has kissed Beck and felt sure that he really had fallen for this idiot somehow, he wanted to kiss him as much as he could before it would be too late. They can get to know each other better later.

Beck’s lips started moving over his own in a beat, his hand suddenly starting to travel around Peter’s body. And as quickly as they had caught feelings for each other, they fell down onto the mattress, Beck towering over Peter’s body. Everything went dark and quiet, their heavy breathing and the funny-sounding wet smacks their lips sometimes made filling the quiet attic. Beck’s kiss only deepened as he slowly allowed himself to press closer against Peter’s body, and when Peter had rolled his hips up, had Beck pushed his tongue inside his mouth.

Peter was afraid. He has never gone this far with anyone. He felt like he was a bad kisser who couldn’t keep up with someone as experienced as Beck. But no matter how insecure he felt, his body acted on its own. And his hips rolled back up again, his groin pressing against Beck’s. After a third roll, Beck finally answered and pressed his hips down in a perfect roll, a deep groan escaping from him.

Peter trembled underneath him.

“Mmhm, Beck”, Peter mumbled, pushing the man away from him so he could talk, and for God’s sake, breathe, because every time their lips met Peter felt like oxygen no longer existed. Beck pressed his hands down against the mattress on both sides of Peter’s body and looked down at him, an eager look in his eyes. As Peter looked back up at him, he knew that this was it. This was the moment when it would finally happen. It was going to take everything in him to finally say what he truly wanted.

“I want you to fuck me”, Peter pleaded out, his voice already breathless, his body already tingling from every spot Beck has touched.

Beck looked to the side, catching air into his mouth. “Wow”, he breathed out, smiling like a fool, the shade of pink on his cheeks hinting that he was flustered from such a straightforward question. “Are you sure?”

Peter nervously licked his lips, but nodded, promising himself that he could do this because he _ wanted _ this. “I know why you bought … sorry, _ stole _lube and condoms on the first day we met", he reminded the man.

"I did?" Beck raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you did", Peter smiled. He wiggled his legs around until he could spread them open, showing the man that despite the fact he was shy and inexperienced and maybe an idiot for deciding he wanted to lose his virginity right now, he was still ready for him. He still wanted him, badly. And he wasn't going to back out on his decision.

"You were planning to fuck me since the first day, right?" A wide grin grew over Peter’s face, a wave of confidence taking over him. The thought of Beck being lustful towards him since the beginning made his heart skip a beat. And suddenly the memory of Beck pointing a gun at him became something dirty. Everything that had happened between them suddenly had a bigger meaning, and it was all thanks to these handcuffs that had brought the two of them together.

"Well, maybe", Beck confessed.

"Then fuck me", Peter said, rolling his hips back up in the air. Beck seemed to hesitate for a moment, but the longer he looked at this young man beneath him, he couldn’t hold himself back. He leaned down, kissed Peter on the lips, then trailed kisses over the side of his neck which made Peter completely crazy. He sucked onto his neck which made Peter moan, loudly enough for the downstairs to hear him. Beck shushed him as he trailed kisses over to his ear.

“Only if you promise to be quiet”, he whispered right into Peter’s ear.

No promises were made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After your reactions on the last chapter, I had to make them kiss just for you guys! And of course they gotta bang each other, you guys deserve it. Next chapter will be fully NSFW, so in case someone doesn't really like reading NSFW stuff, they can simply skip that chapter and continue the story. But for those who like NSFW, stay tuned for the next chapter :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeee, I'm really excited to post this. But I'm also very excited to write two more chapters for this story before I end it. Thank yall for staying tuned all the way here, it means a lot to me!

Beck liked the way Peter’s hair smelled like.

It didn’t smell like shampoo, nor did it smell like water - even if water didn’t really smell like anything in the first place. His hair just smelled like Peter, and Beck couldn’t get enough of it. He had stopped kissing Peter ages ago and was now more focused on rubbing his face against his hair, his pretty brown nicely curly hair. Each curl tickled his nose but he didn't care, because the more he sniffed him, the more Peter was giggling.

“God, you smell so good right now”, Beck whispered because they seriously had to be quiet. Only one floor below them there was a generous family trying to sleep, and the last thing he wanted to do was to wake them up and get kicked out. He wished they could be as loud as they could be, but nothing was perfect, and that’s okay. He just hoped that Peter could keep his mouth shut for once.

Despite the fact that Peter had said he’d be quiet, he had started giggling too loud. “You goddamn dog”, he laughed, and Beck was immediately shushing him, having only one way to shut him up - by locking their lips together. God, Beck wished they weren’t handcuffed together. If his hands would be free, he could freely touch Peter anywhere. He could touch Peter from places he couldn't reach to, use his both hands to stimulate pleasure through Peter's body until he would be begging for mercy. But right now he constantly had to keep his right hand close to Peter’s hand and do the touching with his left hand. He didn’t want to keep pulling too much at the handcuffs. Peter had said it sometimes hurt his hand. Right hand hurting him was the last thing Beck wanted to do, so he was extra careful with his handcuffed hand.

“You’ve changed, Beck”, Peter said quietly. “You were first such a mean guy, but now, look at you. You’re sniffing my hair.”

“Mmh, I can still be bad for you”, Beck whispered, then mouthing at his neck. Dirty talk always wasn't his strongest side.

“Oh my God”, Peter giggled, this time trying to keep his voice down. “Just undress me already.”

Undressing while you were handcuffed together wasn’t as sexy as expected. They couldn’t take their shirts off, and Peter had sit up and help Beck pull his shoes off, then his socks, and then Peter could lay down on his back again. He liked just laying there and let Beck do whatever he wanted to do to him. Peter admitted that sometimes he was bit of a 'pillow princess', or whatever people call it these days. He just wished he was the only one wearing handcuffs, so Beck could just manhandle him, flip him around, use both of his hands on him, eat him out ... And instead of being handcuffed to Beck, both of Peter's hands would be cuffed, and he wouldn't be able to stop the man, even if he wanted to. Sadly, their positions were limited because of the handcuffs, and getting into any position was a goddamn task. But even if their choices on positions were down to one, Peter knew he was going to love every second of this.

“Wait, I need … you know, the lube and condoms and shit from my …”, Beck mumbled.

“Your backpack. Got it”, Peter said, and once again he had to sit up and crawl to the other side of the bed so they both could reach for the bag. Then Beck took his sweet time rummaging through his stuff until he finally found the condoms, then a minute later the bottle of lube. Beck really had been prepared to fuck Peter since day one - He remembered seeing Beck steal lube like he was planning on to do this. It made Peter think a lot. Was Beck always ready to have sex, no matter with who, or did he find Peter so handsome that he wanted to just sleep with him immediately? Right now, Peter didn’t care. He himself probably would have started giving blowjobs to strangers in exchange of money, so he wasn’t gonna judge Beck for being a fucking slut. He was too horny to care about morals.

Beck placed the condoms and lube over to the edge of the mattress where he could reach for them when he really needed them. For now, he was back to kissing the hell out of Peter, his left hand moving awkwardly between their bodies, cupping Peter’s groin over his jeans. Peter immediately bucked his hips against his hand, begging him to touch him more, harder, undress him, stroke him, anything. Peter felt like he was going to cum inside his pants at this rate.

“Have you ever done this before?” Beck asked in a quiet whisper. Peter wasn’t sure what part he meant exactly. Has he been with a man? No. Has he ever had sex? No. Has he ever had anything up his ass? Yes, of course he has.

“I’ve fingered myself before”, Peter said with a straight face, then smiled as he saw Beck chuckle and blush.

“Kid, I’m trying to be romantic here, and you just spit out such dirty things”, he mumbled, gently biting onto his bottom lip which was definitely the sexiest thing Peter has ever seen. The second sexiest thing was seeing Beck go from his top-mode to a blushing mess.

Peter raised his eyebrows and smiled in a smug way. “Didn’t take you as a romantic type.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to be for you”, Beck said, before finally deciding to pull their bodies apart from each other so his hand could reach over to Peter’s belt and unbuckle it. Opening the lock of a belt was difficult with one hand, but somehow Beck managed to do it, and then he was already moving to open the fly of Peter’s jeans.

“You can talk dirty to me”, Peter whispered, giving him a stupid wink. He had practiced winking in front of a mirror before, and somehow he never looked sexy doing it, only stupid. “Dirty talk, romantic talk, no talk, I don’t care. Just be yourself.”

“Myself, huh?” Beck hummed softly. When the fly was open, he slipped his hand inside of Peter’s pants and now cupped him through his boxers. Peter felt himself growing erect in seconds, doing his best to hold down his excited moans. “Well then … I can’t wait to put my fingers inside of you”, Beck whispered to him, his mouth moving back to mouth against Peter’s neck, blemishing it in small little hickeys that told the world Peter was his, and his only.

Peter moaned quietly, spreading his legs more open, rolling his hips up, grabbing onto Beck’s shoulder for support. He then suddenly giggled again. "Isn't it weird to put your fingers down there after you've seen me … you know?"

Beck suddenly released a long sigh. "If that is your attempt on dirty talk then I'm not very impressed, Peter."

"I'm sorry", Peter started laughing again and had to press his hand over his mouth to quiet himself. But he was still giggling, his body starting to tremble because of it. And his stupid laughter was so contagious that Beck had to hold in his breath to not laugh too loudly.

"C'mon, get back into the mood", Beck mumbled and rubbed his hand down harder, hoping that Peter would stop smiling and would focus on the hand inside his pants. And when his fingers managed to rub down just perfectly on his cock, Peter’s laughter died and his mouth locked open in a small ‘o’, soft breaths starting to escape from his mouth. This is how Beck wanted him to be. His smile was adorable, but right now Beck wanted Peter to make another kind of expressions.

When Peter had started giving him a pair of puppy eyes, he knew teasing was over and he needed to move onto something bigger. Beck slowly started pulling Peter’s pants down, the kid helping him out with his own hands, kicking his legs around to get rid off his jeans as fast as possible. And when Peter was naked except for his underwear, Beck couldn’t help but stare at him. He wished there was more light in this attic, a damn spotlight to show off more of Peter’s pretty features, exposing every faint scar, every little mole, every hair that had been placed on his body. Peter looked _beautiful_. His legs were skinny except for his thighs where he had enough flesh there to bruise. He had finally started growing hair on his stomach, a soft, almost invisible line going down underneath the waistband of his briefs, and all Beck wanted to do was to trail his lips by that line of hair. And he did. He leaned down, ignoring the bulge in Peter’s underwear and started kissing at his stomach, then moving higher, raising his shirt up in the progress. Peter helped him, lifting his shirt up higher until his chest was exposed, and immediately Beck’s mouth moved over to his nipple, his lips wrapping around it. And Peter was back to giggling, trying his best to hold it back, or at least keep himself quiet. Beck moved his body between Peter’s legs and rolled his hips down just once, and Peter was back to breathing heavily through his mouth, his hand touching Beck where ever it could reach, tugging at his shirt, urging him to touch him more. Beck rolled his hips down a couple more times, mouthing at Peter’s chest before his hand started to lower the boy’s underwear, pulling them down slowly. Peter was impatient and lifted his legs up, helping Beck to pull them off sooner. 

Feeling Peter’s naked body press against his clothed one felt intense, and quite interesting. Peter seemed like he was shivering a little from the cold, constantly trying to keep their bodies close by rolling his hips up and pulling Beck closer to him. He was growing desperate. Being naked with an erection and a man on top of you does that to you. So when Peter released his first few whines, Beck couldn’t keep the boy waiting anymore and reached for the lube.

And then he looked down at Peter, his cock - that was short enough to be almost hidden when Beck’s hand would wrap around it - was already leaking precum at the top and his legs were pulled up to expose his entrance. Peter was waiting for him. God, Beck was going to die before he could even fuck him.

“God, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Beck asked as he stared down at his body. His legs were so goddamn pretty that soon Beck felt like he was going to develop a fetish just for Peter's thighs, his knees, and his feet and toes. Peter's erection was kind of cute, he wasn’t going to lie about that. And that hungry, desperate look in Peter’s eyes was the cherry on the cake. Peter was everything he had ever dreamed of.

“No. What am I doing to you?” Peter whispered, wiggling his legs around a little.

Beck opened the bottle of lube and wetted his fingers, spreading the liquid over his index and middle finger. “You’re making me hard as a rock.”

Peter held back his giggles once again. “I hope so”, he said, keeping his voice down. He had been too loud before, and he felt like that the second those fingers enter him, he won’t be able to stay quiet. Now it was time to practice being quiet so no one would know what they were doing up here. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I wanna fuck you”, Beck said, and for some reason Peter couldn’t find those words sexy. He was feeling too giggly, too cheerful, for whatever reason. Was this what it was supposed to be like? Peter always thought having sex is just … full of heat and passion and dirty talk and doing it in different positions. Maybe that’s just a porn thing. Maybe when you were having sex with someone you actually liked, you were so excited that you couldn’t stop smiling and everything felt a little awkward, but not awkward enough to make you pull back.

“But first”, Beck continued, moving his fingers slowly over to Peter’s entrance. “I’m going to open you up nice and easy.”

The first finger slipping inside didn’t really feel like anything. Chilly, but nothing new to Peter. Still he felt like he was losing air as he looked down and saw that a part of Beck was inside of him now. It just made him raise his legs closer to his chest so Beck would have an easier access to his entrance. Peter felt nervous how having all of him inside was going to feel like. He hoped it wouldn't hurt, like people said it would.

Beck thrusted the first finger in and out, and soon decided to start adding the second one. It took Beck a moment to find a good angle, but when his second finger finally managed to slip inside of Peter, his muscles went completely tense. “Relax, honey”, Beck shushed him. “You’re gonna have to take more than two fingers if you want me to fuck you.”

“Sorry”, Peter whispered. “I’m just nervous.”

He really was. Peter wasn’t that afraid that it would hurt, no. Even if he hadn’t seen the size of Beck’s cock yet, he felt like he could take it in as long as they had lube and a good amount of fingering. After all, Peter has done this to himself a few times, and he knew two fingers wasn’t that bad. But the fact that it was Beck’s fingers inside of him was making him nervous, maybe even a little afraid. And it was difficult of him to relax. He never could fully relax around Beck.

Beck moved his fingers deeper, then pulled them almost all the way out. Then he pushed them back inside, twisted them a bit, then pulled out. After a minute, he pushed his fingers inside, kept them there and started spreading them apart. Peter had to put his legs down to stop them from shaking. He kept his eyes glued to the ceiling because the last time he had looked down, Peter had become too flustered and had felt like he was going to cum before any of this had even started. And he didn’t want to cum yet. He wanted to do this, so he bit down onto his lip and did his best to keep himself calm and relaxed. Trying to imagine this wast just a simple massage he was receiving helped Peter to calm down.

Beck just smiled down at him, inspecting every little movement his partner made. When he pulled his fingers out, Peter relaxed the most. When he pushed them in, Peter went a little tense and opened his mouth to catch air into his lungs. And when he curled his fingers up, his legs twitched. But what caught his eye the most was Peter’s cock and how needy it looked. Beck wanted to stroke it, but then he decided otherwise.

"Where ever my hand goes, your hand follows", he whispered and then started pulling his right hand closer to himself, watching how the handcuffs forced Peter’s left hand to follow after his. He pulled his hand back until Peter’s hand landed on his own cock. "Stroke yourself for me."

Peter released a gentle whine, pressing the back of his head against the pillow. He felt like his whole body was turning red from embarrassment. "Why don't you stroke me yourself?" he asked quietly, a cheeky grin forming over his face.

"I wanna see you do it", Beck answered him, now guiding Peter’s fingers to wrap around his own cock. When he held onto himself, the head of his cock was peeking out, and Beck immediately imagined sucking on the head while Peter stroked the rest of himself. Maybe he’d try that later.

Peter giggled because of embarrassment but decided to do as he was told. He held onto his cock, looked up at Beck and then slowly started stroking himself. And Beck started fingering him open again, following the slow rhythm of Peter’s hand. First Peter couldn’t stop smiling. He felt a little silly. He felt like they were desperately trying to act like porn stars. And the most of all, he felt so shy to be looked down at like he was a piece of meat. But when he managed to look back into Beck’s eyes, he could see the man smiling back down at him. There wasn’t lust in Beck’s eyes, but something else. And that made Peter slowly relax and melt into the scene. 

It felt good. Really, really, really fucking good.

A third finger entered him, and even if it felt tight and full, Peter managed to take them as long as he focused on stroking himself. Beck was working magic with his fingers as he opened him up, and somehow Beck was better at touching him than Peter was. For example, Peter never really enjoyed fingering himself. He did it sometimes to just add something new to his masturbation sessions, but he couldn’t reach very deep with just his fingers. Beck, on the other hand, moved his fingers all the way in, pressing them in the right places. And Peter felt like he was going to lose himself any second.

“Beck, fuck”, he moaned quietly, a soft smile coming over his face. “That feels really good.”

“Mmh, good”, Beck whispered. He kept his three fingers moving in and out of the boy as his other hand moved closer to Peter’s cock. He took his index finger out, pressed it over the tip of Peter’s cock, and rolled it in soft circles. Peter seemed to like that, because he had started to stroke himself faster. 

“Keep going, baby”, Beck said as he leaned down and pushed his tongue out, first flickering it gently over the head, then moving down and snaking his tongue in circles. Peter slapped his free hand over his mouth. He heard Beck chuckle at him, then fix his position so he could still keep his fingers moving deeper into his ass and move his mouth down further. And when Beck’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock and sucked, Peter’s legs started to raise from the floor. He couldn’t handle it. Just the feeling of someone fingering him open, someone sucking on his cock and then his own hand stroking the base made Peter’s lower stomach ache. And he knew what was gonna happen.

“Stop, stop, stop”, he whispered, letting go of his cock. “I’m close. I’m close. Fuck.”

Beck was nice and understood that Peter didn’t want to come yet, so he stopped and pulled back, licking his lips and removing his fingers. He wished that one day he could work better on his blowjob skills, because right now he had only tried to mimic what he had seen actresses do. He hoped they would have time to be together like this in the future, too. Beck had liked the way Peter tasted like, and he had liked listening Peter moan softly when he had sucked him off. Beck wished he could use his mouth on the boy more, just to see how he would like it.

“You’re cute when you’re moaning quietly”, Beck whispered to him as he reached for the condoms and the lube again. 

Peter covered his face with his hand, holding back laughter. “Shut up.”

“I won’t.”

Beck opened his belt buckle, then his fly, then pulled his jeans and underwear down enough to pull out his cock. Out of curiosity, Peter decided to sat up so he could have a better look. His mouth locked open when he saw Beck’s member, erect and long, bigger than what Peter had expected. He felt his mouth watering, then suddenly go dry. Beck had noticed him staring and just smiled as he started to wrap the condom over his cock. “You like what you see?” Beck’s smile was almost too confident. When he had the condom on, he teasingly dropped lube over his member - causing some drops to mess up the sheets -, then started to stroke himself. Peter felt like he was out of words right now.

“How big is it?” Peter asked straightforward.

“I don’t fucking know. I didn’t happen to steal a ruler”, Beck raised his eyebrow at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to calculate how much of it I could fit into my mouth.”

Peter's imagination was going wild the more he looked at Beck's member, the size of it just growing in Peter's eyes, the worry of him not being able to take it all taking over him. But at the same time Peter was excited to have Beck inside of him. And he had that sudden hunger to suck him off, to desperately try to open his mouth wider so he could take all of him, only to choke and gag against his flesh. Peter's knees clacked against each other as a reaction.

Beck couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, cowboy. We can do that next time. But right now, I’d like to fuck you, if you don’t mind.”

Peter didn’t mind at all. Not one bit.

  
  
  


Peter felt nervous when it was about to happen. He had pulled his legs up and wrapped them around Beck’s hips, and one of his hands was holding onto his shoulder. Their handcuffed hands were holding onto each other while Beck guided his cock to press against his entrance. Peter pressed his head down and looked up to the roof, biting onto his lip, waiting. His heart couldn’t stop beating so damn fast, and he felt tingly everywhere in his body. He wondered if it was going to hurt. He wondered if it was going to even fit. What if he wouldn’t like how it felt like? Peter was growing nervous as seconds passed by.

He first didn’t even realize when the tip of Beck’s cock had slipped inside of him. When his lower body fully relaxed, he felt Beck pushing in deeper, and then it really started to feel like something. It felt tight, then really full. Then it felt like he wasn’t able to take anymore than half of Beck. Then, it felt so good that Peter started smiling.

“Yes, yes, yes”, he moaned quietly as Beck pulled his hips back, then pressed them forward again, slipping deeper inside of him. Peter could feel himself spread out, but it didn’t hurt. Maybe small aching which was a little uncomfortable, but the largest amount of pain was on his lower back. Otherwise, it felt like all those times when Peter had been alone, stuffing things inside of him - things that were shaped like a dick. And when Beck was fully inside of him, Peter just felt like he had a dick inside of him which made it difficult to relax. They both laid there for a few moments, just breathing, smiling at each other, holding onto each other. Peter’s hand slipped under Beck’s shirt, first caressing his muscular back, then his side which made Beck tickle, then he ended up cupping his chest which made Beck grin. Beck rolled his hips once, and Peter gasped softly, squeezing at Beck's chest. Beck liked it when his chest was touched. Peter liked how _movement_ felt like. It wasn’t anything special yet, but he was so excited and had been so close to an orgasm before that right now every kind of touch felt like fireworks.

Beck wanted to say encouraging words to him, but none came to his mind when he inspected Peter’s face, his half-lidded eyes and parted lips. Instead of saying anything, Beck leaned down and crashed their lips together, eagerly kissing him. And Peter kissed him back, softly humming against his mouth, a soft smile staying over his face.

And then Beck started to roll his hips, slowly pulling out, then pushing himself back inside with a little more force. Peter immediately moaned against his lips, his legs trembled a little and then squeezed harder around his waist. God, Peter would have jumped on his dick much sooner if he would have known that he would like it this much. Beck seemed to know exactly what he was doing, even if he was correcting his position a few times and trying to fuck him in different ways - he tried to roll his hips first, then simply tried to buck his hips straight forward, just to see which movement Peter liked more. For the beginning, Peter liked it when Beck rolled his hips, because then he seemed to slip in deeper and touched him in nice places that made his heart skip a beat.

When Beck started to speed it up, Peter broke away from the kiss and released a low moan. Beck whispered; “Shh, darling. Quiet”, but that only seemed to keep Peter quiet for a second because when Beck continued thrusting inside of him, he moaned again, just a little too loudly. Every time Peter was too loud, Beck stopped moving and waited until Peter started bucking his hips against him before he would start moving again. For five straight minutes Beck tried to keep his partner quiet, but when he had rolled his hips and rubbed his cock against his prostate just right, Peter moaned so loudly Beck had to press his hand over the boy’s mouth.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. Otherwise I’ll stop”, Beck whispered to him. Peter whined and pulled the man’s hand away from his mouth.

“No you won’t”, Peter said. Then, he gave him the strong puppy eyes and blinked. Beck smiled.

“No, I won’t”.

“I’m sorry. I’m just really excited about this. And it feels really nice”, Peter then said, lowering his voice, then lowering his gaze. In seconds he turned from a slut into the saddest looking thing on the planet. Peter couldn't help being a little loud. But he didn't want to be completely quiet either. He wanted to sing for his partner so he would know how good this felt. Beck almost felt bad for telling him to be quiet, because he loved hearing Peter’s moans, knowing he was the one making the kid sound like that, but he couldn’t risk waking up the people downstairs.

“I know”, Beck said. “Listen. Try to moan into my ear, alright? Just keep your voice low, I’ll be able to hear it if I’m close.”

Peter blushed but nodded. “Okay.”

Their handcuffed hands stayed locked together when Beck moved his mouth over to Peter’s neck and started sucking on his skin, and in return Peter did his best to keep his mouth close to his ear just as promised. Beck started moving again, much slower now, and for minutes Peter managed to keep himself quiet, simply breathing heavily and every now and then releasing a soft whine. But over time Beck started to turn rougher, more animalistic, more into the version of himself Peter had seen on the first day. Beck’s teeth pressed against the juncture between his neck and shoulder, the rolls of his hips turned faster, and his left hand grabbed onto Peter’s right wrist and pressed it down against the mattress. Now both of Peter’s hands were trapped, held down with force, and it made him feel like Beck was claiming him, like he was an alpha fucking his one and only partner. It made him completely melt into his embrace.

“Ohh … Oh, fuck, Beck, Beck”, Peter moaned, his sweet little sounds quiet as a whisper but loud enough to work as music for Beck. He could feel Peter panting against his ear, then press his forehead against his shoulder as he held his breath, then moan again, thankfully so quietly that it didn’t echo all the way downstairs.

“That’s it, baby”, Beck panted, increasing the speed of his hips. His cock throbbed inside of Peter as he aimed his thrust deeper, harder, rubbing onto his sweet spot. “Moan right into my ear. Only let me hear your pretty little sounds.”

Peter sucked on his lower lip, his legs shaking as a reaction to those words. “When did you turn this p-perfect? -- Ah!” he moaned, his voice raising just a little higher when Beck had angled his hips better and had found the right spot to aim for. And then every thrust inside of him felt like pure Heaven, and Peter could feel his cock leaking over his stomach, and his muscles squeezing around Beck’s hard member. He was sweating everywhere but he didn't care how gross it felt. The only feeling he could focus on was the nearing orgasm that was slowly building up in his whole body.

“Probably when I met you”, Beck whispered before biting down onto his neck again. Peter realized he had a thing for biting, even if it hurt. He didn’t really enjoy the feeling of it that much, but he was more excited to see the marks on him later, knowing that Beck had done those. All the hickeys and bite marks would be a sign to others that Peter already belonged to someone else.

“That’s so cheesy”, he managed to giggle before turning back into a quiet, moaning mess. He did wonder what had happened to Beck during this trip, how he had turned from an asshole into a sweetheart. Nobody knew, and Peter wasn’t confident enough to claim that improvement to be his doing.

Suddenly, without even realizing it, Peter was growing closer to the edge, and he hadn’t even touched his cock yet. He could feel his lower stomach get all tingly and his legs were shaking, from getting close to cumming and from being up for so long. He gasped for air, feeling like he wasn’t suddenly getting enough of it. 

“Beck, fuck”, Peter moaned, fighting to keep his voice low. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Such a good boy”, Beck whispered right into his ear, and Peter felt like hearing those words made him get much closer to finishing off. 

Beck didn’t give him any mercy at the end. He started moving faster, fucking into him until his back started sweating and the mattress underneath them started slipping. Peter felt like his insides were being twisted and all he wanted to do was to scream his heart out, but all he could do was to whimper and moan quietly into Beck's ear, and bite into his lip until it would bleed. As he grew closer, he started moaning just a little louder, chanting out Beck’s name like it was a prayer, and just when he was going to cum, Beck had smacked their lips together in order to keep him quiet. Peter’s moans were muffled by his lips as he came over his stomach, his thighs clutching tightly onto Beck’s sides, his toes pointing straight up at the roof, his back arching up and then back flat against the bed. It all felt too much to take when Beck continued fucking him like an animal, chasing after his own release while Peter felt like he had never been this overstimulated in his life. He constantly gasped for air, losing his sense of reality, growing numb. And when Beck finally stopped kissing him and started grunting, mumbling something under his breath, Peter could finally moan, quiet enough for only him to hear.

_ “Quentin. Oh, Quentin.” _

Beck released a mix of low moans and grunts as he finished, his hips smacking themselves against Peter’s bottom until he finally relaxed, panting heavily. And then they both were a heavy, sweaty, tired mess, taking their time to let their clenching muscles relax and the aching to stop. Peter felt like he was gonna pass out any second now, while Beck was wide awake, listening if the people downstairs had woken up. But he didn’t hear any sounds, any talking, or anybody trying to come up to the attic, so for now Beck believed they were safe. He slowly pulled out, took of the condom and tied it into a knot. Then he showed it to Peter who told him he was gross.

“Come here”, Peter said, his eyes about to close constantly. “Cuddle with me.”

Beck rolled out to lay on Peter’s left side, then turned to face the kid. Then, Peter tried to wrap his arms around Beck but the handcuffs came in the way and twisted Beck’s arm weirdly.

“Ow. Now I know how you felt like when I kept dragging you around”, Beck joked.

“No, no, I got this”, Peter insisted. “Put your right arm under my head … Yeah, like that. Then I just … rest my left hand over my chest like this. Okay, this works.”

And it did work, because even if Peter looked a bit uncomfortable, he managed to rest his left hand over his torso and keep their handcuffed hands close to each other. Then Peter slowly turned to lay on his right side, turning his back to Beck. And once Beck got the hang of it, he turned to his right side too and wrapped his free arm around Peter. Such a hassle to get into a cuddle mode, but it was worth it. Peter felt hot against his body, but he didn't care. Beck pulled the covers over them and pressed himself close to the kid.

“Once these handcuffs are off, we will be touching each other so much”, Beck whispered, kissing the back of Peter’s neck. “We can just move however we want without all this hassle. I could rub your back with both of my hands. I could use both of my hands on you.”

“We have been working pretty well so far. Like a team”, Peter mentioned. His eyes focused on their hands, handcuffed together, resting close to each other. He was sure that in the morning Beck’s arm would be cramping because Peter was using it as a pillow, but for now he wanted to stay close to the man like this.

Somehow, Peter liked these handcuffs. Sure, everything was difficult with them. He didn’t have any privacy, and finding a good position to cuddle or have sex was difficult, but they had made it work somehow. Having these handcuffs was still hell. And yet, Peter didn’t want to get rid of the handcuffs, because he was afraid that Beck would immediately leave him once he was free. Beck had shown he liked Peter, but how much did he like him? Did he like Peter enough to be okay with staying handcuffed together, or would he immediately go and find his own way and leave Peter behind?

Did he just lose his virginity to a guy who was going to leave him the second he could?

Peter felt stupid for crying about this.

“Hey, hey, shhh”, Beck shushed him immediately when he had heard Peter start sniffling. He cuddled up closer to him, holding onto Peter tightly, kissing the back of his neck, his hair, then lifting his head up to kiss his cheek. “You okay?”

Peter swallowed down a lump from his throat. “I really like you”, he whispered, then sniffed strongly. “I just hope you like me, too.”

Beck didn’t understand where this was coming from. There were a lot of times when he didn’t understand what was going through Peter’s head. But he didn’t want to fight about it, not now. He only hugged him, trying to show Peter that he was there for him. “I’m here”, Beck said quietly, because he wasn't quite sure what else he could say. 

“Are you here just because of the handcuffs or because you want to?” Peter asked, now sounding almost pissed off. 

Beck felt like this might be an insecurity issue. And he understood their situation was difficult, so he didn’t blame Peter for feeling like this. But he was still very confused. Hadn't he already showed Peter that he actually liked him? Or had he done something wrong without realizing it? Beck just wished Peter would talk to him instead of curl up into a ball and try to hold it back.

“I’m here because of you, Peter”, he told him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Peter turned around a little, looking over his shoulder at Beck. He tried to say something, but then he closed his mouth, suddenly seeming unsure about everything he had done in his life. Beck sighed softly and pressed his lips against his, feeling glad that despite being a little moody after sex, Peter answered his kiss, desperately, like he was trying to find an answer from Beck’s lips. Beck wondered if Peter was secretly happy deep down inside.

“Would I kiss you like that if I didn’t like you?” Beck asked quietly. 

Peter just blinked at him, then swallowed. “Kiss me again”, he pleaded out. And Beck kissed him, tasting his lips for a long time, trying to show his affection through the slow movement of his lips while his hand caressed up and down Peter’s body. It took a few minutes until Peter fully relaxed and had stopped crying, and had started to kiss him more passionately, almost so passionately that he was ready for round two. But instead of doing anything, Peter slowly pulled back, smiled at Beck and whispered a soft _'thank you', _before he turned to his side again and closed his eyes.

Beck hoped that Peter would soon realize how much he had already changed Beck for the better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it got awfully long so I decided to cut it into two pieces for easier reading. The next chapter should be released very soon.

Peter’s neck was covered in fucking hickeys the morning he woke up. Not only that, his hair was out of control, pointing to every direction possible. His whole body was aching from yesterday’s activities and their sleeping position. After such a wonderful night, Peter was having the worst morning of his life that even his brand new clean jeans couldn’t save. Beck, on the other hand, couldn’t stop smiling. He seemed smug, almost proud of himself, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. At least Beck was nice enough to not constantly remind Peter of last night.

It took them both about an hour to get dressed, pack their things, climb down from the attic, wash up in the bathroom, and finally get downstairs where Sam greeted them. Sam informed them that his kids had already went to school (after all, the clock was pointing at eleven already), and that the two of them could join him for lunch before they start working on the handcuffs again. Peter and Beck joined him at the table after leaving their backpacks by the stairs (because they were always ready to go on a run no matter what), both of them trying to ignore the fact that Sam was giving them both looks. He knew. He had heard. Or maybe he had just seen Peter’s neck and realized what had happened upstairs. But he didn’t say anything about it, but kept his hospitality and changed the subject of the conversation.

“Oh, is your neighbor home right now? With the bolt cutters?” Beck reminded Sam after they had eaten.

“Shit, yeah, he is”, Sam said, quickly getting up from the table. “Sorry, for a moment I forgot you two were cuffed. I’ll go see him right now.” And Sam immediately headed towards the hallway, grabbed his jacket and put on his shoes that had seen better days, and then looked around for his keys before remembering he had left them in his pocket, as always. Out of politeness, Peter and Beck walked over to the front door as to say goodbye to him.

“It’s gonna take ten minutes at most. If you two do anything, anything at all, in here while I’m gone, I’ll call the cops”, Sam threatened them, giving them a look that told the men Sam wasn't afraid they would steal something, but instead leave a mark in his house in a dirtier way. But no matter how tough he tried to look like, Peter couldn’t see him as a danger to them, not after all the nice things he had done for them. Besides, Sam was helping them. He wouldn't dare to steal anything from him, or mess his house. 

“We will behave, don’t worry”, Beck promised him. With a hesitating look in Sam’s eyes, he finally stepped out of the door and started jogging to the other side of the road.

Beck wouldn’t waste a second when it came to their ‘alone time’. His hands immediately moved over Peter’s hips and he pulled him closer, smiling coyly at him. Peter just raised an eyebrow at him. “May I help you?”

Beck chuckled at his sarcastic tone. “The house is completely ours now.”

“For ten minutes, Beck”, Peter rolled his eyes at him. He took a step away from Beck and turned to walk away. “Besides, he obviously doesn't want us to fuck each other while he's gone. We should respect his wishes and behave --”

Peter’s arm was yanked back with the handcuffs and he was pulled right into Beck’s arms. “Just a kiss”, Beck almost whined, his face burying itself into Peter’s hair, sniffing at it, just like he did last night. The memory made Peter blush, and when Beck’s hand wrapped around him and touched his back in a sensual way, he couldn’t help but give in.

“Maybe … just a little bit.”

\--

While Beck and Peter were making out by the damn front door, Sam had managed to borrow the bolt cutters and was now happily bringing them over to his place, feeling somehow relieved. He was glad to soon have the house back to normal with no strangers fucking in the attic, but at the same time he was going to miss having those two around and work for him as a pair of slaves. But Sam was also relieved for the two of them, knowing that once he entered his house and showed them these bolt cutters, Beck’s and Peter’s lives would turn back to normal. And Sam was really rooting for them.

As he stepped over his own lawn, a police car parked in front of his house and a male police officer quickly jumped out of the car and shouted after him. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, looked over at his house with a sigh before walking over to the officer. The two criminals hiding at his place could wait. He just had to somehow get rid of this cop.

“How can I help you, officer?” Sam greeted him in a friendly way, trying to set up a good impression. Although, his nice attitude didn’t seem to phase the officer because he only glared at him and pulled out two pictures of young men - The faces were very familiar to Sam by now.

“We got a call this morning about someone claiming they saw these two men enter your house last night”, the officer went straight for the deal. “Do you have anything to say about that?”

Sam blew some air out of his lungs, his body starting to sweat a little. “I’m quite sure nobody else but me and my kids have been sleeping under my roof, sir.”

“I see”, the officer muttered and put the pictures inside his car through the window, then turned to look back at Sam. This officer looked crankier than usual - Sam had met this officer before in a bar and had heard he often patrolled around his neighborhood. Used to be a lieutenant or some sort of a big name at the station, but had now went a few levels down which was maybe the reason he no longer enjoyed his job. “You do know who these two suspects are, right?”

“I’ve seen them on the news a little, yes”, Sam said, trying to hide the obvious bolt cutters behind his back, hoping that they wouldn’t be the subject of an incoming question.

“So you know they are both wanted for arrest. And you know these two are handcuffed together, which makes their case quite interesting”, the police told him.

“Yes, I know.”

“I see, I see.” The cops eyes dropped down over to his legs. “May I ask what you need the bolt cutters for, sir?”

Sam couldn’t come up with an excuse, and the next thing he knew was that the cop wanted to come inside and ask a couple of questions. He could only hope that Beck and Peter would realize to hide when the door would open.

\--

“Beck, slow down, slow down … Mmmh!”

“I’ll be really fast, baby. You know my mouth would work magic on you. You’d be gone in a minute.”

The two of them had ended up on the living room couch, making out until their lips would bruise, hands travelling all over each other’s bodies. They were acting like a pair of new lovers - which they were -, unable to keep away from each other for one minute. Beck was really into this now, desperately trying to get the belt on Peter’s pants to open. Peter, on the other hand, was holding him back because he felt too nervous about being caught. He simply couldn’t make himself do this. He already felt like an idiot for allowing himself to fall down on the sofa.

“Beck, Sam could come in any second!” Peter giggled, pushing the man away and constantly looking over at the front door.

“I know, that’s the exciting part”, Beck said, grinning at him.

“Oh you are impossible --”

Peter suddenly went quiet and looked over at the front door when he heard noises. He first heard someone trying to unlock the door, constantly poking the lock with the wrong key. Then, he heard Sam saying something about ‘coming inside’ extremely loudly, and Peter’s biggest fear came to reality. Without giving a second to thinking or making a plan, he grabbed Beck by the hand and led him towards the stairs. They quickly grabbed their backpacks and ran up, and just when they reached the highest step, the front door was unlocked and opened.

“I assure, officer, that whoever made that call was simply playing a prank on you! There is nobody here”, Sam said suspiciously loudly, taking a brave step inside, secretly looking around for possible guests he had to hide.

“Can I make coffee for myself?” the officer completely ignored what Sam had said, and moved over to the kitchen once he had the permission to make his drink.

Sam looked around frantically, trying to see where his two illegal friends were hiding in, because he knew that soon when the officer was done asking questions, he would like to look around. When he looked up at the stairs, he saw Peter and Beck waving down at him. Sam pressed his index finger in front of his lips, then pointed at the bolt cutters he was holding. He placed the bolt cutters by the stairs and then moved silently over to the kitchen, seating himself on the table with the officer.

Both Beck and Peter were sweating, each limb of their shaking from fear as they listened, and waited. They listened quietly how the officer was asking questions about them, and how Sam always denied he didn’t know anything, even when he was threatened. The wait was long, but once the officer decided he wouldn’t get anywhere with simply asking questions, he drank the last of his coffee, stood up and said: “I’m going to look around.”

Peter slammed his hand over his mouth, now starting to shake even harder. He knew that if they were to get caught, it would all be over. And not just for the two of them, but for Sam, too, who only had wanted to help them. Beck tried to rub his back and tell him they were going to be fine.

“I’ll show you around, then. We can start by the living door and then head over to the garage”, Sam declared with a loud voice, standing up and pointing over at the living room.

“I’ll check every room on my way”, the officer said and lazily stomped over to the living room, curiously looking around.

“Of course you will.”

With their backpacks on their back, Beck and Peter quietly and extremely slowly walked down the stairs a little, peeking out to the kitchen where Sam was still standing. He once again placed his finger over his lips, then with his other hand showed them to stay where they were. They all waited dead quietly as the officer searched the living room, then headed to the right side of the house, walking away from the stairs. “Are any of these doors locked?” the officer asked.

“No, none of them. But let me come with you, in case you have trouble opening one”, Sam said. The officer opened one door and saw an office that hadn’t been used in a long while, and he stepped inside.

Sam quickly looked over at the two men at the stairs and mouthed _‘go, go, go’_, and they quickly moved down the stars and grabbed the bolt cutters. Sam pointed at the backdoor, and for the third time told them to be quiet, and then he started walking towards his office, knowing he would look suspicious if he wouldn’t join the officer as soon as possible. Peter smiled at Sam, mouthed _‘thank you’_ as clearly as he could before he and Beck started tip toeing towards the backdoor. They waited by the door until they heard Sam instruct the officer to open a door that would lead them to the garage. When they heard a door open in the distance, Beck grabbed the handle, opened the backdoor, and then they ran out as quickly as possible, leaving no trace of them ever being in the house.

They ran over the toys that were spread over the grass, then with each others help jumped over the fence, grabbed their stuff and the heavy bolt cutters, and continued running for their freedom until their lungs would break and their legs would give out. They ran for their life, both praying that Sam knew what he was doing and that he wouldn’t get in any trouble for helping the two of them. Peter felt like he was going to cry, because he wished he could have given a proper goodbye to Sam, to thank him for being so generous and kind to them when he had no reason to be. But for now, he could only hope that Sam already knew that the two of them were forever grateful for his aid.

They soon saw train tracks in the distance, and a train already slowly moving past them, carrying long lines of cut down trees on the railway cars with no walls or a roof, only poles that kept the wood piles pressed against each other. The last trailway cars were empty, so despite feeling completely out of breath, they both headed towards them, hoping to catch a ride. They first threw in the bolt cutters, before Peter grabbed onto one of the poles and jumped on. Beck tried to jump after him, but almost fell down thanks to a rock that hit his shoes, and Peter had to stand up and reach for Beck’s hand to try and pull him up on the train. But Beck was having a hard time catching up to him. His body was growing tired, and he felt like he was going to fall down and break into pieces. But Peter wouldn’t allow it. _‘You can do it’_, Peter shouted at him, his other hand holding onto the pole tightly, allowing him to reach for his partner better now. Their fingers touched each other once, then twice, and then Peter leaned in so close that he almost fell off the train himself, just to wrap his fingers around Beck’s wrist and pull him in. Beck used the last of his strength to jump onto the railway car, and with a few bruises on his legs he managed to climb on, safe and sound.

They both laid down on their backs, gasping for air, sweat covering their whole body so their clothes were sticky against their skin. Everything felt so warm. Knowing they were free, Beck and Peter just took their time to relax and wait until the aching in the muscles would stop and they could operate again. For long minutes they just laid there, listening to the sound of the train, looking up at the clouds, and smelling the freshly cut down trees that this train was carrying.

They had escaped from the law once again, thanks to great luck and assistance. And soon, they would be free from the torment of these handcuffs.

“C’mon, help me with these”, Beck said as he sat up and grabbed onto the handle of the bolt cutters. Peter grabbed onto the free handle, and then they together placed the metal chain between the ‘teeth’ of the cutters, and then they started pressing the handles closer together, as hard as they could. The positioning was awkward and for multiple times they had to position the chain between the cutters again, but when they worked together and tried again, and again, and again --

_ **S N A P** _

The chain broke with a loud sound and a small piece of the chain dropped down against the floor. The bolt cutters were dropped down with a heavy ‘thud’, and then … Then they were free. Their handcuff was still a bracelet around their wrist, but no more was there a chain between their hands. They were no longer forced to be together at all times.

“We’re free”, Peter mouthed. He felt like he was in a dream, like being free wasn’t a reality, like he had been living with Beck his whole life and now being apart from him was a strange thing to experience. Beck, on the other hand, was completely ecstatic, immediately screaming and laughing out of joy. The first thing he did was to stand up, jump around, and then walk as far away from Peter as he could.

“I’m so far away from you now!” Beck shouted from the other side of the railway cart.

Peter laughed at him. “I can finally fucking breathe!” he shouted, taking off his backpack. And then he decided to do something he has been wanting to do for a long time now. He took off his hoodie, then his shirt, and then he threw his shirt out, just dropping it out of the train and letting the wind take care of it. For a few seconds he let the cold air brush against his pale sides until he started shaking and he had to go through his backpack to find a clean, new shirt. Peter had never felt better when he smelled at his shirt and it didn’t smell like days worth of sweat.

“You gonna do that same thing with your pants, too?” Beck joked as he calmly walked closer to him.

“You wish”, Peter said, and suddenly he got a burst of energy as he ran towards Beck, just barely able to stay standing on the moving train, and he jumped into his arms, making them both crash down onto their knees. The hug felt weird at first, because now Peter could have both of his arms around Beck, and at the same time Beck could hug him back. Somehow, the hug managed to be comforting only for a little bit before it almost felt unnatural. Peter soon broke away from their embrace and looked down at his handcuff. No more chain. Nothing was forcing him to stay with Beck anymore. He thought he’d be relieved when this would finally happen, but all it did was make Peter feel lost.

“What’s with the face, Peter?” Beck asked. This wasn’t the first time when Peter suddenly got sad and his eyes turned a little wet and his eyebrows kept twitching and his bottom lip kept shaking. There was something wrong, and Beck promised himself he wouldn’t let it go this time.

“This doesn’t feel right”, Peter mumbled.

“What do you mean? We’re finally free”, Beck insisted. “We can shit in peace now.”

“I know, but -- !” Peter didn’t know what to say, not when he was this close to Beck. He stood up and took a few steps back, getting some space between the two of them, something they didn’t have before. “What happens now?”

Beck shrugged. “I take you home. To Humboldt County”, he said.

“And then what? I go back to my life while you just … disappear and never come back?” Peter shouted, and suddenly he was back to being an emotional mess, just like last night. Expect this time he refused to let himself cry. He wanted to be stronger than that. Peter took a deep, shaky breath to calm himself down a little before he looked back over at Beck. “I don’t wanna say goodbye to you, Beck.”

“What are you talking about?”

Peter swallowed, then licked his lips, then took a deep breath, then moved his hands into fists, his fingernails pressing tightly against the skin of his palm. All that to keep his eyes dry. “I know we’re free now, but … I don’t wanna lose you. I wanna stay close to you, because I _want_ to, not because I_ have_ to”, Peter explained. “I’m just afraid that all this time you constantly wanted to get rid of me, and now you can.”

He really didn’t want Beck to just drop him off and then go away just like that, not even looking back. Peter felt a little stupid for getting so attached to this man so quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. Adventure had brought them together and made them grow closer to each other, and just because they were no longer forced to stay together, Peter didn’t want to give that all up. He wanted to continue their journey, just with a different thing to look forward to.

Thankfully, Beck was on the same road with him.

“I’m not planning to leave you forever”, Beck said. “If you want, I can stay around for a while, look for a place to stay. I won’t disappear.”

Peter isn’t sure if the answer he heard was satisfying enough. He doesn’t know how to drop the subject, no matter how many times Beck would tell him that his fears are nonsense. No matter how many times Beck would say he’d stay, the fear of him leaving was still going to be there no matter what.

So the only thing Peter really knew what to say was: “I like you.”

A child-like confession. Something that adults never really said to each other anymore because 'like' had turned into something only kids did. Beck just quietly stared at him, maybe wondering if the word ‘like’ was secretly something more. Peter couldn’t handle the silence. “... Do you like me, too?” he asked bravely, his eyes never leaving Beck’s. He was expecting Beck to laugh at him, to make a joke, or then just literally jump out of the train because he wouldn't want to deal with Peter's messy emotions. But Peter was just being his paranoid self, because after a few seconds, Beck finally smiled.

“Yeah, I like you”, he said. “Interesting what a pair of handcuffs can do to a person.”

Beck walked over to him and placed his hand carefully over Peter’s cheek, his hold onto him so gentle that it was obvious Beck was being extremely careful around him. Peter sighed and pressed his cheek against his palm. Beck’s hands always felt so warm. He wanted his hand - no, his both hands - all over his body. His back, his arms, shoulders, neck, cheeks, hair, bottom, thighs, everywhere, everywhere. He wanted Beck to hold onto him tighter, harder, stronger.

“I’m gonna miss being handcuffed together”, Peter chuckled.

“Well now we can be all over each other because we want to”, Beck smiled at him. “Besides, we can keep the bracelets. They can be our souvenir.”

Peter had planned to do that since he had started liking Beck. He didn’t want to get rid of this handcuff, ever. He wanted to keep it as a memory, something to look back to when he was an adult and this handcuff was rusted and placed on his shelf, or on his wall, or hidden in his bed table drawer. A souvenir. A love lock. A handcuff that somehow reminded Peter of a promise ring.

“Our own little love lock”, Peter said, remembering the story about lovers locking a padlock on a bridge and then tossing the key away. Undying love, or something. Huh. ‘Love’ was a strong word. Peter wasn’t sure if he yet loved Beck, because despite their shared adventure, he still knew very little of him. But Peter was eager about their future, and was actually excited to fall for him even more. That’s why he wanted to keep the handcuff. Thanks to these handcuffs they had met, and they had known each other, and they had fallen for each other. To Peter, this handcuff brought him luck and made him fall for Beck harder than ever before.

They both sat down at the edge of the railway car, their legs hanging off, eyes glued onto the changing scenery. Peter had asked Beck to talk about himself, at least for five minutes, just so Peter would know something about him. Anything. And this time Beck didn’t hold back any secrets. He told small little details about his life, like stories from his childhood or what kind of school he went to. He didn’t tell his whole life story and all the traumas he’s been through, but he told enough that if Peter were to introduce Beck to his aunt, he’d know what to say. He'd know to introduce Beck as a man he really liked.

But Beck still refused to talk about his current situation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a very, very small NSFW scene so idk beware

When the view started to look familiar, Peter knew they were in Humboldt County, California, and with their backpacks on they jumped off the train, both falling down onto the ground together. The bolt cutters were left behind, because they didn’t need them, and there was no way in hell they could ever go back and return them to their rightful owner. Poor Sam had to buy his neighbor a new pair of damn bolt cutters.

Humboldt County was best known for its magnificent coastal redwoods that were the tallest trees in the world. As a kid, Peter always wanted to climb one, even if those trees only had branches to hold onto at the very top. He wanted to get as high as possible, and then just look around, have a better view of the world he lived in. Sometimes when Peter was feeling hopeless, he had imagined climbing up the tallest tree and then just dropping down. Those weird thoughts came back to his head as they walked past the trees, admiring how tall and thick they were. Peter shook his head, forgot about his past because it no longer mattered, and focused his eyes on Beck, his possible future.

The more they walked, the more familiar the view became. Houses started appearing, cars kept passing them. And suddenly Peter was automatically walking towards his home like he had never left home and was now walking home from school. No longer was he and Beck just walking around aimlessly, hoping to end up somewhere good, but now they both knew where they were headed, which roads to take and where to turn. And before Peter realized it, he was looking at a house with painted blue walls and windows with curtains over them. It was the house he had grown up in ever since his parents had died and his uncle and aunt had taken care of him. It was also the house he had to leave, because after uncle Ben had died, they no longer couldn’t live in such a big house. His possible future awaited for him in New York in a tiny apartment that was stupidly expensive but still just barely in their budget. It didn’t make Peter feel calm as he looked at his home he hadn’t stepped a foot on for weeks now. It just made him anxious, knowing that this wasn’t going to be his home forever, and if he were to stay, he’d have to move to New York. 

This place no longer felt like home.

“This is where I live, I guess”, Peter said, awkwardly pointing at the house.

“Okay”, Beck said, placing his both hands in his pockets. Peter also put his hands in his pockets, and for some reason that seemed to calm him down a little. He hadn’t been able to feel the inside of his pockets for a while now.

“You can go now”, Peter mumbled, kicking his own feet a little.

“I don’t think I will, not just yet”, was the only thing Beck said. He wasn’t much of a guy who would pour his heart out with words. He was more of an action kind of guy. Maybe that’s why he pulled Peter’s hand out of his pocket and locked their hands together, their handcuffs pressing against each other. When they held hands, it felt like they were still handcuffed to each other. They were like friendship bracelets, expect more.

“Why wouldn’t you leave?” Peter asked, pressing harder on the issue.

“I think I found someone to stay with”, Beck said, giving a squeeze to his hand. “Someone who’s a bit annoying but fun to hang out with. Someone who isn’t scared of me.”

“But I was scared of you. In the beginning at least”, Peter reminded him.

“I pointed a gun at you, Peter. You weren’t scared of it. You just joked about it”, Beck said. And he was right. Peter had been cocky towards him even at gunpoint. At the very beginning Peter was deep down inside a little scared of this stranger, but his sarcastic attitude never faded so his fears were never shown. Peter still wondered to this day how he had the courage to act like an asshole towards a guy with a gun in his pocket.

Beck leaned closer to him, so close that it looked like he was going for a kiss. His lips did part and Peter was ready to kiss him, but Beck just chuckled at him quietly. “That’s why I like you. Even if we would fight, or annoy each other, or even if we have seen each other shit --”

“Oh my God”, Peter laughed.

“-- I would still wanna be with you. We’re a team now.”

Beck finally leaned in for a kiss, but his lips landed right on Peter’s nose because the kid couldn’t keep his head still. They both laughed a little, then kissed each other properly before ending it quickly. Peter felt weird making out in front of his house.

“So what happens now?” he asked.

“We should go inside, Peter.”

  
  


Walking up to a door had never been this scary. The house seemed so quiet, and when Beck rang the doorbell for him, it was as loud as a siren. They waited silently for a few seconds, listening if they heard anyone walking towards the door. No sound. When Beck pressed his ear against the door, he could hear a radio play, the lyrics of the song muffled. He ran the doorbell again. Peter started to sweat and holding onto Beck’s hand became uncomfortable, but he held onto it anyway. He was beginning to fear that aunt May had already moved to New York. Or maybe she wasn’t just home, which was just a perfect excuse for Peter to continue his journey somewhere else. _'Oh, I came back home but you weren't there, so I guess I'll just leave and never come back, again'._

The third time Beck ran the bell, someone shouted from the inside. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” a woman’s voice echoed, followed by a line of curses, a few said in a whole different language. Peter swallowed nervously, held onto Beck’s hand until it hurt and stared at the door. When it finally opened, he and aunt May immediately locked eyes immediately. She looked like a mess, but still beautiful. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was tangled and unkept, and the shirt she was wearing hadn’t been ironed. May looked shocked when she saw Peter at her front door. Her mouth had locked open like she couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Hi”, Peter said awkwardly, destroying the silence that had grown between them.

Aunt May inhaled strongly, finally closing her mouth, but only for a second. “Where the hell have you been?!” she suddenly shouted, making Peter jump in fear. “I have been looking everywhere, _ everywhere, _for you! Why did you … why?!”

Aunt May’s anger died in a second when she saw Peter crying, and then, her eyes started watering too. The only thing she could do next was to hug Peter, hold onto him for dear life, and sob her heart out. Peter couldn’t help but sob, too. Suddenly, all of his fears disappeared when he felt her arms around his body. He felt safe, loved, taken care of. Kind of the same feeling he had with Beck, but different. He felt like he had a family again.

When May pulled back, she smiled at Peter and brushed his hair, then gave him a kiss on the forehead, whispering; “I’m so glad you’re home”. Then, she looked over at Beck, glared at him and said: “And who are you?”

“May, he’s a friend”, Peter said. “Or, uh … more than a friend.”

Peter grabbing onto Beck’s hand was maybe not the best way to introduce your new boyfriend to your aunt, especially when you have been missing for a long time. Aunt May seemed surprised, then disappointed, but then she smiled again, although it was difficult to tell if her smile was real.

“Get inside. I’ll make you coffee.”

  
  


\--

  
  
  


Their time spend by the kitchen table lasted for almost two hours.

They had started by introducing Beck, and only then was he allowed to have coffee and even have a seat because aunt May didn't like strangers in her home. Then, aunt May became emotional again and started explaining how worried she was, how lost and alone she was after Peter had left. There hadn’t been a note, nor any form of goodbye. Peter had just disappeared so suddenly that everything in May’s life had turned into dust. Just recently she had started believing that Peter had died. Watching her cry made Peter feel physical pain in his chest, regret making his whole body ache.

Then, Peter had to explain himself. He told May how he didn’t want to move, how he still wasn’t over uncle Ben’s death, and how after this journey he was unsure what he wanted from his life. He felt lost. May kept repeating that he should go back to school, but Peter fought back, explaining that school wasn’t that important to him, not anymore. He knew that he was foolish for saying that, but Peter meant it. 

It took him an hour to explain how he had met Beck and how they had traveled all the way here while being handcuffed together, and how he and Beck had grown a deeper connection with each other during said trip. Going through the events of the last few days made Peter feel both melancholic and happy. He didn’t feel like he had been through a lot - He almost felt like he had wanted to go through more of that ‘hell’, as aunt May had referred to it.

Then came the big question, something that aunt May had been holding back since the start of the conversation. “Are you going to stay?”

Peter was surprised she even asked that. He had waited for that moment when May would have locked him in his room and never let him out of his sight, but now it sounded like she was giving him a choice.

Beck laid his hand on the table, and Peter didn’t waste a second to hold onto it with his own hand. May looked down at their hands, then at the handcuffs around their wrists. “I don’t know”, Peter said quietly. “May, I … I think I’m …”

“Gay?” May said quite bluntly, and Peter awkwardly nodded. “I know you are, Peter. And I love you just the way you are. I just … The age difference is a bit of a surprise.”

Beck didn’t mean to laugh. “I’m not that old.”

“He’s 19, you’re … a proper adult. The difference is huge”, May said. 

“May, please. Beck’s a good guy.”

May gave her best loving look at Peter, and moved to rest her hand over their locked hands. “If he truly makes you happy, then I won’t stand in the way of it. You have my blessing. I just hope you know what you are doing, Peter.”

Peter pressed his free hand over his face, sniffing, already crying so hard that hiccups started coming up. Both Beck and May shushed him, telling it was okay. But Peter couldn’t stop himself from crying. Everything was coming out of him right now. He hated being this emotional in front of people. “I thought you’d hate me. For leaving. For being like this”, Peter whimpered against his palm.

“Of course I was upset when you left, Peter. But all I want for you is to be safe, and to be happy”, May told him, tears already flowing down her cheeks. Beck felt like he was the only one not crying and felt awkward sitting there. When aunt May got her voice back, she tried to sit straight and hold her head up to keep the tears away. “Are you happy?”

Peter wiped his tears away and looked over at Beck, meeting with his gaze. “Yeah”, he said. “I know it’s stupid --”

“It’s not stupid.”

“-- But I really like him. And I don’t want to lose him.”

Peter was back to sobbing as he threw himself into Beck’s arms, both of his hands immediately moving to rub Peter’s back. Beck shushed him gently and placed a kiss against his head, whispering quietly to him, so quietly that his words were just a blur.

“Oh, Peter”, May whimpered, rubbing her forehead for a moment. “You don’t have to lose him. I … He can stay here for a while until we move. Or … Or … You can go.”

“Go?” Beck said, knowing that right now Peter was losing his voice and was choking into his own tears so much that he couldn’t talk.

“Peter, if you really don’t want to stay, then … I can’t stop you. You’re an adult. And I love you, I want you to be happy. If going hiking around the country is something you want to do, then … do it! It kills me to see you like that”, May said, her cheeks glowing so red that it looked like her skin was about to burn off.

Peter collected himself the best he could, wiping his face and fixing his hair. He felt like a damn mess. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice all croaky. “You allow me to leave?”

“I think it’s stupid and reckless, especially with a guy you have just met, but … Yes. I’m letting you go”, aunt May said. “But there are going to be rules you _ need _to follow.”

Those rules were something Peter, and Beck too, could easily follow. The first rule was to stay home tonight and spend time with her as much as possible. Second rule was to accept some money she gave Peter, some extra cash May had gotten from the furniture and other belongings she had sold. Third rule was a promise to come and visit aunt May as much as possible, and for that aunt May gave Peter her new address she was going to move to within a month. Peter wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it in a small pocket in his backpack, making sure the zipper was closed three times. The fourth rule was for Quentin Beck - _ “Take care of my son.” _

They followed the first rule obediently and for the rest of the day, neither Beck or Peter left May’s side. Expect there was a few moments when Beck stepped into another room to let May hug Peter, just hug him, nothing more nothing less. He didn't want to be in the way of family bonding. But otherwise the three of them spend every second together, making dinner, eating it, watching a movie, eating snacks, going through the family photo albums just for fun, packing stuff into boxes, and cleaning. At the end of the day, Peter and Beck got to have another shower, this time both having free arms to wash themselves, and both of them covered each other in so much soap that when they kissed each other the taste was fruity and chemical. Peter was going to miss taking showers.

Peter’s room hadn’t been touched since he had left. His posters were still on the wall, his bed hadn't been made, his school books were on the side of his table, his phone was still charging, hundreds of messages on it waiting to be read. And Peter did read them, but didn’t answer a single one. He didn’t feel like telling the same story to all of his friends. So instead he kept himself busy by showing Beck his room before he took everything out of his backpack, and packed it again. He took clean clothes with him, put the money May gave him into his wallet, took everything he didn’t need out and replaced it with bottles of water, food he stole from the kitchen, anything more useful than a dirty pair of underwear. And when he was finished and wanted to go for a walk, it was already late and dark outside, so they went to bed. Aunt May kissed him good night for good five minutes before letting Peter close his bedroom door.

They made love again on Peter’s large bed that creaked under their weight and banged against the wall slightly when they dry humped against each other, their mouths constantly kissing each other in a messy heated embrace. It was quiet in the whole house, and to keep it that way they moved slowly and only used their mouths and hands on each other. This time, Peter managed to keep his voice down, even when his mouth was around Beck’s flesh and he felt like he was going to choke. In the dark, he had taken his time to admire Beck's body, every inch of it, never missing a spot. He had given most attention to his cock, of course, because Beck had been pulling his hair constantly, begging for Peter to touch him, to suck him off, anything. And Peter had done both, first using his mouth over the head just like Beck had done to him, and stroking the rest of his length. Beck had come down his throat when Peter had finally managed to fit all of him down his throat.

Even if there was that constant fear that they would be heard again, and the weird awkwardness of doing this in his aunt’s home, Peter loved every second of it. He loved it even when he wanted to scream his heart out when Beck's mouth worked on him, first teasingly licking his entrance, then finally sucking him off. And Peter had turned into a mess in the sheets because unlike him, Beck didn't gag nor have any trouble holding his cock inside his mouth. Peter had come in seconds, his moans muffled by his own hand.

When they both had finished, they stayed close to each other, hands caressing each other's skin, lips pressing kisses in every atom of their skin. They exchanged sleepy kisses for a long, long time, until at some point Beck's finger had entered Peter. He laid on top of Beck as he was opened up and gently massaged from the inside, grinding his hips down against the man's thigh, one hand pressed against the duvet, one hand caressing Beck's side. A second finger entered, a moan was swallowed by Beck's hungry kisses. By the time Beck was smashing his fingers inside of him so hard you could hear the skin slapping, Peter had come a second time that night, and then fallen right asleep in Beck's arms, a place that now felt like home.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


“Do you have everything you need? Food? Money? Clothes? The address? A sleeping bag?”

“Yes. I have everything and more. I’ve checked multiple times.”

“Do you also have my number saved?”

“I have it memorized, May. I’ll be okay. Besides, we’ll come back here. I promise.”

  
  


Peter didn’t mind the idea of having a place to go to when you were out on a run. Aunt May was going to move out soon, but for the next few weeks she would be living in this house, so in case Peter and Beck wanted a real bed to sleep in, they could drop by whenever wanted. It felt like a dream that May was so supportive of Peter’s new lifestyle, but every now and then there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, and it became obvious she secretly wanted Peter to still live with her. Watching your kids fly off on their own is one of the hardest things a parent has to do.

“I’m going to miss you”, May said and came in for a hug, holding onto Peter so tightly that his spine almost broke. She also gave a hug to Beck which ended up being an awkward embrace, but both of them just pretended that their hug wasn’t as bad as it really was. Then, May hugged Peter again, and again, and again. Once the hugs ran out, they both placed their backpacks onto their backs, and then held onto each other’s hands, still pretending the chain existed between their wrists.

“Oh, one more thing”, May said and quickly ran away over to Peter’s room, and in a second returned holding his phone and his charger. “Take your phone with you, Peter, so I can reach you.”

“It’s not gonna be much of a help, May. I’m gonna run out of battery”, Peter mumbled. He didn’t like the idea of taking his phone. He had memorized May’s phone number, so if he really needed to call, he could just borrow someone else’s phone and make the call. He didn’t want to carry something this expensive with him, because at some point he’d definitely try to sell it.

“That’s why you have the charger, darling”, May said and pushed the phone and charger into his hands. She would not take a ‘no’ for an answer.

“Can’t the police track his phone?” Beck pointed out with an arch of an eyebrow.

May shrugged. “Just turn it off when you don’t need it so the police can’t track you. I just feel better if I know you have it.” 

It was an odd experience to have an aunt who told you to watch out for the police, but Peter appreciated the support.

They said their last goodbyes, hugged once more before Peter and Beck left and were back on the road, aunt May waving at them from the door. She stood by the doorway until she no longer could see Peter, and then stayed there for five minutes longer before she finally managed to enter her house again.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Humboldt County was the town Peter had grown up in, and when they had left the house, Peter had the sudden urge to just walk around and relive his childhood memories. He was eager to show Beck what his life had been like before he had left, so they went through every location possible. First stop were the grocery stores nearby his house, then the mall that was under construction at the moment, so they didn’t go in. Peter showed Beck his school and they ended up hanging outside of it until the bell rang and the students suddenly came out so they quickly ran away, just so none of Peter’s old classmates would see him.

When the sky was turning into a nice orange color, they stopped by a small park build for kids, just to have a little break. They both took their turns on the swings, then moved over to sit by a bench where usually a tired parent sat and watched over their kid. Peter told him a story on how he wasn’t a very playful kid in his youth. May would take Peter to the park, but he wouldn’t play with the other kids. Instead, Peter would play with the sand and call his creations ‘experiments’. Then, he’d step on them, or pour water on them, or drop a rock over his sand castle and watch how high the sand flew, and how far the sand dropped. Beck joked that Peter has always been a fucking nerd, which was true.

“Does it feel bad for you to leave this life behind?” Beck asked, gazing over at the park. In his opinion, this park would only be entertaining for very, very small kids and drunk teens who wanted a place to vandalize. The playground looked boring to him, the most exciting thing about it was maybe the slide that was far too steep.

“I’m not gonna miss this park, I hated coming here as a kid”, Peter told him.

“You know what I meant”, Beck chuckled. “From what I’ve seen today, you seemed to have a pretty good life. A very normal and a boring one, but still. Any regrets for leaving it?”

Peter thought for a moment, but then decided to shake his head. “I can always come back”, he said, knowing that wherever aunt May was, she would be waiting for him with open arms. He also knew that if his list of crimes would grow, he wouldn't be able to return to normal life, he'd go straight to prison. He ignored that fact. “But yeah, I’ll miss this. I’m not gonna lie.”

“You sure you wanna leave and come with me? I don’t have a destination”, Beck said, resting his left arm over the back of the bench. This time Peter was sitting by his left side, and if he was honest, Peter preferred being by his right side. He liked to hold hands and listen to their handcuffs clack against each other. He still missed having the chain forcing them to be together.

“Having no destination makes it exciting”, Peter said, then turned to look at Beck. “What about you? Do you miss your home, wherever it is?”

Beck kicked his leg a little, accidentally knocking his backpack down. “I do. But I’m not like you. I can’t just go back to it.”

Once again, Peter wanted to ask about Beck’s past and how he had ended up in this situation. But he had asked about it before with no luck. He felt like it was an issue he had to wait to hear an answer to. Over time, Beck would feel comfortable talking about his past, and Peter didn’t mind waiting.

“Well, if I ever go back to my old life, then I’ll rent my own little shit apartment and let you live with me there secretly”, Peter joked. Half-joked. He actually didn’t mind the idea of living in a tiny little apartment and have Beck secretly living with him. And for a second Peter even thought that decorating his room would be fun.

“That’s illegal, Peter”, Beck said. “But if we were to get caught, we can just say I was there for a sleepover, nothing more. They can’t arrest us.”

“I wouldn’t mind being arrested again.”

Just when Peter was leaning in for a kiss, he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, and despite the fact he just wanted to throw it on the ground, he answered the incoming call. It was aunt May calling him, of course, most likely asking if Peter remembered to change his diaper. “Hi, May. Miss me already?” Peter said onto the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Beck?” was the only thing May said, and she sounded angry, furious, fucking scary.

“What do you mean? I told you about him”, Peter said, a little confused. He saw how Beck was giving him a weird look so Peter decided to stand up and take a few steps forward to make the phone call a little more private. “He worked for Tony Stark on … whatever, got fired and now doesn’t seem to have a home. And … we’re together? What else is there to know?”

That didn’t seem to satisfy May at all. “Peter, he is _ dangerous. _”

Peter turned to look at Beck who seemed to be avoiding his gaze in every way possible. Peter swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I watched the news. Then I called the cops. You were both arrested, but then there was an accident. The officer died, Peter! And you just left her there?” aunt May yelled at him, her voice already cracking which was a sound of her fighting back tears.

“I told you this already, May! It was an accident. She died right on the spot. We couldn’t help her”, Peter shouted right back at her. “Are you seriously thinking it was somehow Beck’s fault she died? We were both in the car. A fucking deer jumped in front of it and we crashed.”

“Peter, this isn’t just about that accident”, May said, her voice suddenly growing quieter. For a few seconds it was dead quiet, and Peter waited as May collected her courage to speak again.

“Peter, your friend is accused of murdering his own father.”

  
  
  


Peter moved the phone out of his ear, then dropped it down onto the ground. He slowly turned to look at Beck who was finally looking back at him, but somehow those eyes seemed to belong to a completely different man. Peter swallowed, trying to stop himself from shaking.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Beck said, taking a comfortable seat on the bench, burying his hands deep inside his jacket’s pockets.

“Did you kill your own father?”

Beck went quiet and looked down at his feet in shame. And that’s all he had to do to make Peter understand what he had just heard was real. Peter cursed, pressed his hands against the sides of his head and started walking in circles. Quentin Beck was a murderer. He was literally more rotten than Peter had expected him to be, and suddenly Peter feared for his life. His mind immediately went back to their first day together, how Beck had tackled him down onto the ground and pressed the gun against his forehead. He could have just shot him, right there and there. Peter suddenly had a hard time breathing.

Would Beck kill him if he ever had to?

“Peter, you need to take a deep breath”, Beck said and slowly stood up, walking towards Peter. But Peter always took one step back away from him. He didn't want to be touched by him anymore.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this?” he yelled.

“Because I knew this is how you’d react!” Beck yelled back at him.

“Of course I would lose my shit, you fucking killed a person! You could have killed _me_”, Peter said, his whole body boiling with anger and the feeling of being lead on and lied to. "I'm allowed to be ... fucking upset. I'm scared!"

“Please, let me explain”, Beck said, holding both of his hands out as to show he wasn’t going to hurt Peter.

“You better explain.”

  
  


Beck took a strong deep breath, then mumbled _‘okay’_ at least a thousand times as he rubbed his face, scratched his beard, ran his hand through his hair and walked around in circles. When he finally had calmed down a little, Beck forced himself to stay still expect for his fingers constantly scratching skin off of each other. “I lost my job, Peter. I lost everything. And I was about to lose my home, too. So, I went to meet my dad”, Beck explained. Already at him mentioning his dad, Peter felt like he was choking on air again and how tears of panic were coming out of the corners of his eyes. He didn't even know what Beck's father looked like, but in front of his eyes he could still see a dead body laying by Beck's feet.

“But my dad despised me. When I came over and told him I needed just a little more money to keep my house, he lost it. He got so angry”, Beck explained, his own voice turning into a strong groan of a bear, the anger his own father felt towards him that day taking over him. “My father was a drunk, and I was his disappointment of a son. So, after swallowing down another beer … God knows how many he had drank that day … My dad pulled out a gun and threatened to shoot me if I wouldn’t leave.”

Peter gasped a little for air, trying to keep himself calm enough to listen to the full story. But God, death always made him feel so uneasy. After seeing the bloody corpse of that officer named Denice, and seeing his own uncle Ben lay in a coffin, Peter couldn’t handle seeing death, nor even hear about it. But he bit down onto his lip and forced him to listen Beck’s side of the story.

“I tried to calm him down. I tried to take the gun away from him because he wasn’t in his right mind to be holding a damn gun! And then …”, Beck suddenly choked in his own words, his bottom lip starting to tremble and his eyes turning wet. “The gun went off as I tried to take it. It hit dad. Right in the chest.”

Beck pressed his finger against the left side of his chest, quite close to the heart. “I was too afraid to move a muscle, so my dad collapsed onto the ground and died. And I … fucking Christ, I … I freaked out. I took the money and just ran for my fucking life.”

“You what?” Peter spat out, his calm moment ending in seconds and the anger flowing back into his veins. “You stole from your dead father? Are you insane?”

“I didn’t wanna go to jail! What would you have done?” Beck said, his tone growing angrier too.

“I would have helped my father! I would have helped him no matter what. I would have helped my parents if I could have!”, Peter shouted at him, and then when Beck got too close to him, he placed his hands over his chest and pushed him. “How can you be such a fucking asshole?”

Beck didn’t say anything, just stepped closer and pushed Peter in return. He pushed him so hard that Peter fell down on his ass. Peter then just yelled until his throat hurt, kicked himself back up and jumped towards Beck, tackling him down onto the ground. They started punching each other, pushing and pulling and scratching and kicking, rolling on the ground until sand found its way inside their clothes.

“Fuck you for not telling me about this!” Peter yelled, pressing Beck down onto the ground and punching him in the face. It hurt his knuckles. Beck spat at him and then rolled over Peter, one hand over his shoulder, holding him down, while the other one punched Peter back.

“Calm the fuck down you little twink”, Beck growled at him. 

Peter kicked his leg up, his knee hitting Beck’s groin. “I’m not your fucking twink”, he shouted, then punched Beck awkwardly on the throat. It wasn’t strong enough to damage anything, but God did it make Beck choke. In a moment of vulnerability, Peter rolled them over again, moving on top of Beck. “Did you ever even care about me?! Did you?”

“Get your bubble ass off me!” Beck yelled, punching Peter to the side, then kicked around with his legs.

“What the fuck do you want?” Peter yelled, then punched Beck in the face again. His eye was starting to bruise already. He had blood over his lips.

“I want my fucking freedom!” Beck said. When another punch was coming, he grabbed onto Peter’s hand and stopped it. Then Peter tried to punch him with his free hand, but Beck grabbed onto that too, doing his best to hold onto his both hands. “I want … I want …!”

Beck couldn’t even finish his words right now so the only thing left for him to do was to show what he wanted. He rolled them over again, pinned Peter down onto the ground, and then forced their lips together, because Beck had grown to know that kissing, or any form of affection, calmed his boyfriend down. And for a moment Peter did seem to relax and just for a second kiss him back, but then he was back to struggling, forcing his hands free and kicking around like a child having a tantrum.

“Stop it! Fucking stop it!” Peter yelled. “Cut it out!”

A police car drove over the grass and stopped right next to the park where the sand started. A door opened, an officer looked outside and then simply decided to call for backup, shouting the address into the walkie talkie. As Beck and Peter continued rolling on the ground, the officer walked towards them with a gun in his hand, shouting at them to stop. Beck was the first one to break away from the fight and kick away, trying to get up on his feet but finding it hard to stand.

“Hands where I can see them!” the officer shouted. Peter pretended to hold his hands up as he stood up and backed away towards the bench, but the second the cop started walking towards him, Peter was ready for a fight. The cop put his gun into his holster and then grabbed onto Peter’s hand, ready to put him into handcuffs. In return, Peter kicked him on the balls, and then grabbed onto Beck’s backpack and threw it towards the man. Beck looked down at his feet where the backpack had landed, then over at Peter who now was pushed down onto the ground, his hands being tied behind his back.

“Just go!” Peter shouted, trying to wiggle as hard as he could, the cop struggling to hold him down. “Run!”

Beck put his backpack on and turned around. But he couldn’t make himself move or take another step towards his freedom. He just stood there, listening how the officer told Peter to stay still, and how Peter continued to fight and yell at Beck to just go and leave him behind. For a moment, he really did want to run, but then something odd happened. Beck’s right hand automatically reached behind, reaching towards Peter. It felt like there was still an invisible chain between their handcuffs, pulling them towards each other. Right now, Beck should cut that chain off and do as he was told. But he didn’t want to. He knew that the handcuffs had been put on them for a reason.

Without a second thought, Beck ran towards the officer and kicked him so hard in the face that they both fell down onto the ground. The cop cursed loudly, his nose bleeding as he reached for the gun, but the second it was in his grasp, Beck kicked his hand. The gun fired before it flew somewhere in the distance, and for a second Beck believed in God and thanked him for saving him from that bullet, wherever it flew.

Peter wiped his nose as it had started to bleed at some point and stood up, walking over to the bench to get his backpack. He put it on, and then walked over to the cop. He didn’t listen at all what the officer was shouting. He simply knelt down next to him and punched him in the face. Again. Again. Again. Again. And again until the officer was no longer responding and his face was covered in blood and Peter’s knuckles were bruised.

Beck pulled Peter away from the man, telling him to stop. Peter was full of rage, but the second Beck placed his hands over his cheeks and tried to talk to him, the humming sound in his ears turned into the sound of waves hitting against the rocks of a cliff. He could see Beck’s lips moving, most likely asking if he was alright or then muttering a long heartfelt apology. But Peter couldn’t hear anything for some reason. He felt like he was high. His half-lidded eyes looked at Beck, inspecting his bruised eye and the small drop of blood at the corner of his lips. Peter had really punched him hard, hadn’t he? He could feel pain and aching over his knuckles and his own nose was bleeding so much that blood flowed over his lips. They both were a damn mess.

Beck was still talking, and still cupping Peter’s cheeks. Right now, he didn’t care what Beck had to say to explain himself, or what kind of an apology he was giving. Right now, Peter wanted to get revenge on him for trying to shut him up.

Peter kissed him, just to make Beck finally shut up, and to bring himself back to reality. His lips tasted bloody, a strong hint of a metallic taste hitting his tongue as Peter opened his mouth wider and tilted his head to the side. Beck answered his kiss hungrily, his arms wrapping around him as he kissed him so hard that it almost hurt more than a punch. They kissed each other hungrily like their life depended on it until they had to break off from each other to catch air into their lungs. Peter couldn’t help but smile, and laugh his anger out. Beck couldn’t help but smile, too.

“You look good with a bruise”, Peter giggled.

“You look good with a bloody nose”, Beck said, grabbing Peter by the chin, then leaning in to run his tongue from his lips up to his nose, licking the blood away. 

Peter burst out into laughter. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re gross.”

Both of them turned to look at the officer who was slowly waking up, grunting something in pain. Then, both of their eyes turned to look over at the police car with one door hanging open. Neither of them had to say anything to each other because at this point both of them had only one thing in their mind. They ran towards the cop car, threw their backpacks into the backseat, and then they jumped in, Beck starting up the car while Peter told him to hurry up. They drove away from the park, both watching as the officer tried to run after them with no luck.

As Beck drove over the speed limit, heading out of the town as soon as possible, he grabbed onto Peter’s hand and held onto it tightly. Peter squeezed his hand and smiled at him, unable to take his eyes off of his partner. Every now and then Beck looked away from the road and looked at Peter, his heart pounding beneath his chest.

Both of them didn’t have any regrets of what had just happened. They only looked forward because that’s where their future was. And as they held onto each other's hands, Peter realized he no longer needed the handcuffs to be close to Beck. They didn't need a chain that forced them to be together when both of them wanted to be together.

Peter watched the city pass by them, for the first time feeling thrilled what the future would hold out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I feel so relieved to end this story, not because I disliked writing it but because I have another story idea I want to put my heart into. Thanks for sticking up until the end, and I'll see you in the next video, please like, comment and subscribe.


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